"Oh, will you, Mother? That will be lovely!"
"Yes, I'll write you every day. You can receive letters although you can't send any. Now, I want you to be my own brave little daughter, and not only try to be cheerful and pleasant yourself, but cheer up Mrs. Spencer and Delight."
"Yes, Mother, I will try. I feel better already, since I've heard your voice."
"Of course you do. And Father will talk to you when he comes home, and to-morrow Kitty and King can talk, and you'll almost feel as if you were at home."
"Yes,—but oh, Mother, it's awful, isn't it?"
"No, it isn't awful at all, unless you get ill But we won't cross that bridge until we come to it. Now, I'll send over a suitcase to-night, and then I can send more things to-morrow."
"Yes, Mother. And put in your picture, won't you? The one on my mantelpiece, I mean. Then I'll have it to kiss good-night to."
Mrs. Maynard's voice choked a little, but she said:
"Yes, dear, I will. Good-bye for now; we mustn't monopolize Mrs.
Spencer's telephone."
"Good-bye," said Midget, reluctantly, and hung up the receiver, feeling that now she was indeed an exile from her home. But not long after, she was called to the telephone again, and her father's cheery voice said: