“Well, where shall she go? Will you take her?”
“I? Certainly not,” declared Kate, with decision. “I'm sure I see no reason why I should.”
“No more do I see why William should, either,” cut in Cyril.
“Oh, come, what's the use,” interposed Bertram. “Let her stay. She's a nice little thing, I'm sure.”
Cyril and Kate turned sharply.
“Bertram!” The cry was a duet of angry amazement. Then Kate added: “It seems that you, too, have come under the sway of dark eyes, pink cheeks, and an unknown quantity of curly hair!”
Bertram laughed.
“Oh, well, she would be nice to—er—paint,” he murmured.
“See here, children,” demurred William, a little sternly, “all this is wasting time. There is no way out of it. I wouldn't be seen turning that homeless child away now. We must keep her; that's settled. The question is, how shall it be done? We must have some woman friend here to be her companion, of course; but whom shall we get?”
Kate sighed, and looked her dismay. Bertram threw a glance into Cyril's eyes, and made an expressive gesture.