"What is it you can hardly believe, eh?" asked Mr. Dawson, as he entered the room.
"I have been telling her that you mean to build and endow a convalescent home in the country for girls, as a thanks-offering to God for my recovery, father," Miss Dawson said, answering for Mavis, "and that her mother is to be the matron, and she can scarcely credit it. Still, I think she approves of our plan."
"Oh yes, yes!" cried Mavis. "It's just what I should wish to do if I were you," she proceeded frankly, looking at Mr. Dawson with approval in her glance, and then turning her soft hazel eyes meaningly upon his daughter, "and you couldn't have a better matron than mother—"
"Mavis! My dear!" interrupted Mrs. Grey.
"It's quite true," declared Miss Dawson. Then she went on to explain to Mavis that the home was to be within easy reach of London, and it was to be a home of rest for sick working-girls, where they would have good nursing.
"I think it's a beautiful plan," said Mavis, earnestly. She realized that it meant permanent work for her mother, too; and turning to her she inquired, "Shall I be able to live with you, mother?"
"Yes, dear, I hope so," Mrs. Grey answered, with a reassuring smile.
"Oh yes, of course," said Miss Dawson.
And the little girl's heart beat with joy.
She remained silent for a while after that, listening to the conversation of her elders, and meditating on what wonderful news this would be for them all at the Mill House. Then her mind travelled to Mr. Moseley, and her face grew grave, as she thought of those two delicate girls so dear to him, who had faded and died. But it brightened, as she reflected how nice it must be to be rich, like Mr. Dawson, to be able to help those not so well off as himself.