"There, there, Dollygirl," said her father, "go back and finish your pudding while we talk this over a bit. Are you sure, Edith, you are willing? I don't want you to feel miserable and anxious all the week Dolly is cut loose from your apron string."
"No, Will; it's all right. If you and the Roses and Trudy, here, all agree it's best for Dolly to go, it seems foolish for me to object. And it may be for her good, after all."
"That's what I say, mother," put in Trudy. "Doll isn't a child, exactly. She's fifteen and a half, and it will be a fine experience for her to see a little bit of the great world. And she couldn't do it under better conditions than at Mr. Forbes' brother's. The Forbes' are a fine family, and you know, perfectly well, there'll be nothing there that isn't just exactly right."
"It isn't that, Trudy. But,—oh, I don't know; I daresay I'm a foolish mother bird, afraid of her littlest fledgling."
"You're a lovely mother-bird!" cried Dolly, "and not foolish a bit! but, oh, do decide positively, for I can't wait another minute to tell Dot, if I'm going."
"Very well," said Mrs. Fayre, "run along and tell Dotty, and Bernice, too."
Dolly made a jump and two hops for the telephone, and soon the wires must have bent under the weight of joyous exclamations.
"Oh, Dolly, isn't it fine!"
"Oh, Dotty, it's splendid! I can hardly believe it!"
"Have you told Bernice?"