"Now, Daphne, don't talk to me about the summer home! You know we got a big lot of things and people that always is asking me for money. I git a heap of letters every morning from preachers, and charity workers and beggars and poor people, and people who are trying to make a fool of me, and git my money. I guess there ain't a person in New York or an institution that's got a want, but they feel that it won't do no harm for to try me."
"Why, I didn't know you were bothered. Why don't you have them all sent to Father?"
"Humph—mighty little attention they'd git. No, I go over 'em all myself, with Dr. Eaton. You didn't know he was my private advisor, did you? He's a fine young man and he's got a head on his shoulders; and him and me go over all the letters and them that he thinks that is honest, he sees, and then he tells me what he thinks we had better do. He's got sense and don't let me git foolish, because sometimes the letters or the cases is so pitiful that I can't help cryin', and generally them's the ones he finds is no good. I been visitin' institutions with him, orphan asylums, and rescue homes. We got a lot of new babies and their mothers comin' to the house next week; we got them from the hospitals. He's workin' out a plan for me, and now I want to talk to him about them mothers and the country. We are going by his office, as I can't wait until he comes out to-night."
Daphne flushed.
"We might take him out with us."
"That's a good idea, Daphne. You go up to his office and tell him to come down an we'll take him home. I want to talk and he can stay to dinner."
"Can't I stay too—" shyly said Daphne, slipping her hand into Drusilla's.
Drusilla looked down at her and laughed.
"No, you can't. Your father wouldn't like it, and besides if you are there the doctor won't talk sense. He'll jest set and look at you."
Daphne laughed happily.