"I wonder if she will be like her father, Pamela! I hope so! Marigold! It is a sweet name, I think!"
"A most absurd one!" Miss Pamela exclaimed. "No doubt the mother chose it! Marigold, indeed!"
"Well, well," in conciliatory tones, "I have an idea she will be a nice little girl. I cannot help feeling we have undertaken a very great responsibility in removing the child from her mother's care, and I hope God will guide us how to bring her up so that she may become a good woman. I trust she will prove docile and sweet-tempered."
"Her father was both; but, of course, she may take after her mother!"
"I liked the tone of her mother's letters, and I sometimes think we may have been prejudiced against her. You know I always thought dear Rupert acted impulsively and without consideration, rather than with any idea of disrespect to us. If you had allowed him to explain—"
"We do not want to go over old ground, Mary. Is not that a cab coming?"
"Yes, and it is stopping here! Oh, the child has arrived! See! Barker is helping her out! Oh, what a thin, pale, little creature she looks! She sees us watching! Oh, Pamela, do let us go into the hall to meet her!"
"No. Sit down, Mary!" Miss Pamela said, in the tones of command that her sister never thought of disobeying. "Barker will bring her in presently."
Miss Holcroft sank into a chair with a sigh of disappointment, and waited impatiently enough till there was a knock at the drawing-room door. Miss Pamela answered: "Come in!" and then Barker's voice announced: "Miss Marigold Holcroft!"
Marigold advanced towards her aunts timidly, with flushed cheeks and downcast eyes. It was Miss Holcroft who, rising quickly, took the little trembling figure in her arms and gave her a welcoming kiss.