“Folks called her a very good teacher,” she whispered. “She’s dead now.”
“Loyal and affectionate,” thought Penelope. “That’s the Gildersleeve blood in her.” Aloud she went on, with a change of subject, to Caroline’s great relief: “There’s a Polish lady spending the summer here in Longmeadow. She’s a really exceptional pianist. I believe if I asked her——How would you like to have some lessons from her this summer?”
Caroline clasped her hands upon the toothbrush.
“Oh, I’d love it like anything—but I—I couldn’t—it—it would cost—lots.”
Penelope lifted her brows slightly, but she smiled.
“That sounds like Great-uncle Thaddeus Gildersleeve, who was the most cautious man in Longmeadow,” she said. “Don’t fret about the bills! This will be my treat, Jacqueline, to my Cousin Jack’s little daughter.”
She did not offer to kiss Caroline, but she put her hand on her shoulder, and smiled down at her quite kindly.
“Run along to bed now,” she said. “We’ll go together and call on Madame Woleski to-morrow.”
A little later, when Caroline was settled between the fresh, cool sheets in the green and golden room, she told it all to Mildred.
“I’m to take lessons from a Polish lady,” she whispered. “Oh, I think Cousin Penelope likes me, or she wouldn’t have offered. It’s like Heaven here, isn’t it, Mildred? If only we could stay forever!”