New people might think it "quaint" and "pretty" but they had not lived here all their lives. And, besides, she had expressly told Uncle Paul that the doctor had said that Hilary needed a change.
She was still brooding over the downfall of her hopes, when her mother called to her from the garden. Pauline went down, feeling that it mattered very little what her father's decision had been—it could make so little difference to them, either way.
Mrs. Shaw was on the bench under the old elm, that stood midway between parsonage and church. She had been rereading Uncle Paul's letter, and to Pauline's wonder, there was something like a smile of amusement in her eyes.
"Well, mother?" the girl asked.
"Well, dear, your father and I have talked the matter over, and we have decided to allow you to accept your uncle's offer."
"But that—hateful condition! How is Hilary to get a chance—here in
Winton?"
"Who was it that I heard saying, only this morning, Pauline, that even if Uncle Paul didn't agree, she really believed we might manage to have a very pleasant summer here at home?"
"I know—but still, now that we know definitely—"
"We can go to work definitely to do even better."
"But how, mother!"