“And that awful gold-mine stock,” moaned Jane. “But she wouldn’t—I know she wouldn’t!”
“Of course she wouldn’t,” cried Miss Flora. “’Tisn’t like Maggie one bit! She’d only tell the nice things, I’m sure. And, of course, she’d tell him how pleased we were with the money!”
“Yes, of course, of course. And to think she’s met him—really met him!” breathed Jane. “Mellicent!” She turned an excited face to her daughter, who had just entered the room. “What do you think? Aunt Flora’s just had a letter from Aunt Maggie, and she’s met Mr. Fulton—actually talked with him!”
“Really? Oh, how perfectly splendid! Is he nice? Did she like him?”
Miss Flora laughed.
“That’s just what your mother asked. Yes, he’s real nice, your Aunt Maggie says, and she likes him very much.”
“But how’d she do it? How’d she happen to meet him?” demanded Jane.
“Well, it seems he knew Mr. Tyndall, and Mr. Tyndall brought him home one night and introduced him to his wife and Maggie; and since then he’s been very nice to them. He’s taken them out in his automobile, and taken them to the theater twice.”
“That’s because she belongs to us, of course,” nodded Jane wisely.
“Yes, I suppose so,” agreed Flora. “And I think it’s very kind of him.”