[CHAPTER II]
A NEW STEP IN LIFE AND A NEW FRIEND
THE following morning Mrs. Holcroft, in spite of tears and protestations from Marigold, wrote to her husband's aunts and declared her acceptance of their offer, and in the course of a few posts received the reply, written as the preceding letter had been by Miss Pamela, the younger sister. Mrs. Holcroft knew that the elder Miss Holcroft—Aunt Mary—had been her husband's favourite aunt, being a much milder, gentler person than Miss Pamela, to whom she had grown accustomed to defer in every matter, whether of importance or not, and she rightly guessed that if Miss Holcroft had been allowed to entertain a mind of her own, she would have been friends with her nephew years before his death.
Mrs. Holcroft saw at once by the tenor of Miss Pamela's letter that she was really eager to see the little girl, and decided that as the parting was now inevitable it should not be delayed too long, or Marigold would have time to dwell on the thought of separation from her family. So the day was fixed for her journey westward, and preparations were commenced to renovate her somewhat scanty wardrobe. Marigold, who had at first been in the depths of despair at the idea of leaving her mother and brothers, could not help feeling an interest in these preparations, and as her mother was persistently cheerful, her own spirits began to revive. As to the boys, Marigold was somewhat hurt, to find that they did not seem to be much upset at the thought of being parted from her.
"I don't believe you care in the least," she told them vexedly.
"Oh yes, I do," Rupert answered. "We shall miss you, of course, for you're not a bad sort for a girl, Marigold! But think what a good time you will have, with servants to wait on you and money to spend! Oh, don't I wish I were in your place!"
"So do I!" little Lionel agreed.
"I wish you boys were going instead of me," Marigold grumbled. "I'm sure I'd much rather stay at home with mother—think how hard she'll have to work when I'm gone! She'll have to clean your boots, and—"
"No, she won't," Rupert interposed, "I'm to do that myself! I mean to get up earlier in the mornings and help mother like you do now, Marigold!"
"Oh, how nice of you, Rupert! And you'll write to me and let me know how you get on with your fretwork, and if you are put in a higher form at school next term, won't you?"