"I believe so. But Molly Jenkins has talked to her about it, I know, and I think Muriel's stepmother helps her too."
There was a brief silence, during which the parlour-maid brought in the letters that had just arrived by the last post for the night. There was one for Marigold from her mother, which the little girl seized eagerly, and proceeded to read. Whilst she was in the midst of its perusal Miss Pamela entered; and a minute later Marigold dropped her letter, and covering her face with her hands, burst into a fit of weeping. Her aunts were much distressed, and strove to learn the cause of her agitation.
"My darling child!" Miss Holcroft cried. "Tell us what is amiss? Have you had bad news from your home?"
"No!" Marigold gasped, uncovering her face and pointing at the letter that lay on the hearthrug. "Please read it! I am very foolish, but—I—I can't help it!"
It was Miss Pamela who glanced first through Mrs. Holcroft's communication, after which she silently handed it to her sister. It told Marigold that a distant relative had lately died, and had left her mother two hundred pounds a year. To the little girl this amount appeared a big fortune, and her tears were shed for excessive joy.
"I am very silly," she said, half laughing, half crying, "but it is so—so wonderful! Oh, Aunt Mary! Oh, Aunt Pamela! To think mother will never need to work so hard again! She will be able to keep a servant, and live in a nicer place! Two hundred pounds a year is a lot of money, isn't it?"
"It is a good bit," Miss Holcroft responded; adding kindly, "I am very glad, dear!"
Miss Pamela sat silent, lost in thought. She took no notice when Marigold continued to talk excitedly of her mother's fortune; whilst Miss Holcroft entered fully into the child's delight.
But after Marigold had said good-night and gone to bed, and the sisters were alone together, Miss Pamela spoke.
"Mary, that woman will want to take Marigold away from us!"