Susie looked for it. Vivian handed it to her, and Miss Elder read it once more.
"There's plenty of homeless boys out there besides yours, Orella," the doctor assured her. "Come on—and bring both these girls with you. It's a chance for any girl, Miss Lane."
But her friend did not hear her. She found what she was looking for in the letter and read it aloud. "I'm on the road again now, likely to be doing Colorado most of the year if things go right. It's a fine country."
Susie hopped up with a little cry.
"Just the thing, Aunt Rella! Let's go out and surprise Mort. He thinks we are just built into the ground here. Won't it be fun, Viva?"
Vivian had risen from her seat and stood at the window, gazing out with unseeing eyes at the shadowy little front yard. Morton might be there. She might see him. But—was it womanly to go there—for that? There were other reasons, surely. She had longed for freedom, for a chance to grow, to do something in life—something great and beautiful! Perhaps this was the opening of the gate, the opportunity of a lifetime.
"You folks are so strong on duty," the doctor was saying, "Why can't you see a real duty in this? I tell you, the place is full of men that need mothering, and sistering—good honest sweethearting and marrying, too. Come on, Rella. Do bigger work than you've ever done yet—and, as I said, bring both these nice girls with you. What do you say, Miss Lane?"
Vivian turned to her, her fine face flushed with hope, yet with a small Greek fret on the broad forehead.
"I'd like to, very much, Dr. Bellair—on some accounts. But——" She could not quite voice her dim objections, her obscure withdrawals; and so fell back on the excuse of childhood—"I'm sure Mother wouldn't let me."