"Poughkeepsie,"—Sue gave her the address. "Go up this afternoon—right away. And return the first thing in the morning. Bring her straight to the Rectory. Now, you'll have quite a ride with that baby, Dora. And I want you to get her ready for the happiest moment in all her little life! Do you hear?—the happiest, Dora! And, oh, here's where you must be eloquent!"
"Oh, Miss Susan, 'I am of slow speech, and of a slow tongue.'"
"I'll tell you what to say," reassured Sue. "You say to her that you're bringing her to her mother; and that she's going to live with her mother, in a little cottage somewhere—a cottage running over with roses."
"Roses," echoed Dora, and counting on her fingers, "—mother, cottage, garden——"
"And tell her that she's got a dear mother—so brave, and good, and sweet, and pretty. And her mother loves her—don't forget that!—loves her better than anything else in the whole world——"
"Loves her," checked off Dora, pulling aside another finger; "—brave, good, sweet, pretty——"
"Yes, and there's going to be no more boarding out—no more forever! Oh, the lonely little heart!" Sue took Dora by both shoulders. "Her mother's waiting for her! Her mother! Her own mother!"
"Boarding out,"—checking again; "—waiting mother. Miss Susan, I shall return by the first train tomorrow, Providence permitting." This last was accompanied by a solemn look at Mrs. Milo, and a roguish hop-skip that freed her from Sue's hold.
"Oh, the very first!" urged Sue. "Dora!"
Dora swung herself out.