He stared at her for a moment. "Oh! O-o-oh! Is you gonin' to 'dopt me?"
Mother Cary, with an exclamation, turned quickly to watch the two; Rosamund met her eyes over the boy's head. Her plan was coming to birth.
"Do you want me to, Tim?" she asked.
The child's lips began to quiver. Then he dumped himself down upon the floor, and howled. "Want my White Lady!" he cried. "Want to 'dopt my White Lady!"
Swiftly he was lifted in Rosamund's arms. "Good for you, Tim! Good for you, old man! I'm glad you know your own mind!" she cried.
She gathered him up, threw herself into a big rocking chair, set him astride on her knees and rocked him wildly back and forth, down until his curls nearly touched the floor, then up again, up in a bubble of laughter and kisses, Timmy forgetting his tears to shout with glee, down and up again, down and up, the child screaming with joy. Father Cary and Yetta coming in from the barn to breakfast, stood in the doorway laughing, Yetta wondering a little at Miss Rose's unwonted exuberance. Mother Cary had already taken her place at the table, and was laughing in sympathy with them.
When Rosamund stopped, breathless, with aching arms, Tim still demanded "More! More! do it 'den!"
"Land's sakes, honey-bird, what ails ye?" Mother Cary cried. "I never suspected you could be so lively!"
For reply Rosamund looked at Yetta. "When Tim adopts the 'White Lady,' and I go to live with them, will you come, too, Yetta?" she asked.
"Is that a conundrum? I ain't much good at riddles!" Yetta declared.