“Yes, but I never thought of whose brother he was. You can know a lot of things without knowing much about them,” declared Eva, stoutly.
“Melbourne! That’s the capital of Victoria, isn’t it?”
“Oh, never mind what it is!” snapped Eileen. “Go on, Mollie.”
“The worst of it is,” went on Mollie, “he and Dadda have not been good friends since they were boys. Of course, they might not be real bad friends, but they quarrelled when they were young, and never write to each other at all, and I suppose he’s nearly forgotten he has a brother while he’s travelling all over the world.”
“Oh! dear, aren’t people a nuisance to go quarrelling, especially when one of them’s rich?” said Eileen. “I do wish he was friendly with us: he might help us. I don’t suppose Mamma and Dadda would take anything—it’d be too much like begging.”
“Well, we’ll just write from ourselves,” said Mollie. “From five little bush girls—his five little nieces that he doesn’t know—and we’ll all sign our own names.”
“Good! Grand! Splendid! Oh, Mollie, you’re a brick! Let’s start the letter straight away. Oh, Mollie! what’ll we say? I wonder when he’ll get it.”
“But I hope he don’t write and tell Dadda that his five little—little—what are we?—nieces, wrote to him,” said Eva.
“Oh, no! we’ll tell him not to,” declared Mollie. “It’ll be a hard letter to write; I’ve been thinking over it for the last three days.”
“Three days!” again murmured Eva. “I don’t know how you’ve thought of it for three days without telling us,” she said admiringly. “I’d have to have told us all straight away. Oh, Mollie, you’re real clever! I’d have never thought of our Rich Uncle.”