They laughed, but Eleanor could not ignore the opportunity for a lesson in good manners. She had tried in vain to impress it upon Tim before; now she repeated, "You must call her Aunt Sue, Timmy! I call her that, and Miss Rose does. You want to be polite, too, don't you?"
But Tim knew what he wanted; he had thought it out for himself. "She ain't," he said, frowning. "An' I don't want her. I got a muvver."
"Oh! The darling!" cried Eleanor, and let him swagger back to his march with the wagon.
So the boy was provided for, and Eleanor daily gained in health. Ogilvie was delighted.
"Just let it go on for a few months," said he, "and she'll forget she has any eyes. Pity she'll have to go back to work, though," he added.
He had been away for a few days, on some consultation, and so could notice the change in her all the more for his absence. They were driving through the golden woods; the first heavy frost had fallen the night before.
Her breath fluttered a little as she answered. "She will not have to work any more—not as she used to—if she decides really to adopt Timmy," she said, palpitating in wonder as to how he would take the disclosure of her gift and what it implied.
He turned quickly to look at her, all interest. "So that's what Flood meant!" he said.
She returned his look rather blankly. "Mr. Flood? What on earth do you mean?"
"I stayed with him in New York, you know. He told me the kiddie's future was provided for, but he was too modest to tell me how. That's one of the things I like about him—his modesty. He's a fine fellow, Flood is."