William Jones nodded. "I wish you were going with us on Monday," he said, looking at her thoughtfully. "I wish—" He paused abruptly, and walked on in silence for a few minutes; then he began again: "I say, Melina, don't you wonder what's become of your father?"
"Yes, that I do! Gran won't tell me—perhaps she doesn't know herself."
"Perhaps not. Father says that he believes that he went abroad—to Canada. Maybe he's making a fortune, and one of these days he'll be coming home."
"Oh, I do hope he will!—that is, if he's a nice man like your father, William. But if he's making a fortune, don't you think he'd send home some money for me? He must know I'm a great expense to Gran."
"I suppose that's what Mrs. Berryman says—that you're a great expense to her; but I don't believe you are. Why, she spends hardly anything on you; it's very mean of her to be so screwy, especially when she could do so much better for you if she liked."
William Jones, who was quoting the opinion of his mother, looked quite indignant as he spoke. Melina made no response; she was recollecting the hoard of money she had discovered that Mrs. Berryman possessed.
"You see, your grandmother can't be really poor," the boy continued; "if she was, she couldn't lend money, that's certain."
"What do you mean?" the little girl inquired in response. "I don't believe Gran would lend money to anyone. I—well, I don't think she's kind enough to do that."
"Do you mean to say that you don't know—" William Jones broke off suddenly, then exclaimed: "Well, I never! You don't mean to say that she's kept it a secret from you?"
"Kept what a secret from me?" questioned Melina, thoroughly puzzled; "what is it I don't know?"