“And let me tall you mamma?” queried Carry, looking up.
“And let you call me mamma!” assented Mrs. Tretherick with an embarrassed laugh.
“Yeth,” said Carry promptly.
They entered the bedroom together. Carry's eye instantly caught sight of the trunk.
“Are you dowin away adain, mamma?” she said with a quick nervous look, and a clutch at the woman's dress.
“No-o,” said Mrs. Tretherick, looking out of the window.
“Only playing your dowin away,” suggested Carry with a laugh. “Let me play too.”
Mrs. Tretherick assented. Carry flew into the next room, and presently re-appeared, dragging a small trunk, into which she gravely proceeded to pack her clothes. Mrs. Tretherick noticed that they were not many. A question or two regarding them brought out some further replies from the child; and, before many minutes had elapsed, Mrs. Tretherick was in possession of all her earlier history. But, to do this, Mrs. Tretherick had been obliged to take Carry upon her lap, pending the most confidential disclosures. They sat thus a long time after Mrs. Tretherick had apparently ceased to be interested in Carry's disclosures; and, when lost in thought, she allowed the child to rattle on unheeded, and ran her fingers through the scarlet curls.
“You don't hold me right, mamma,” said Carry at last, after one or two uneasy shiftings of position.
“How should I hold you?” asked Mrs. Tretherick with a half-amused, half-embarrassed laugh.