‘Well, go on with your story,’ said Aunt Grace, and Emmeline began to relate the troubles and adventures of yesterday. Aunt Grace listened so sympathetically that it must be owned that her niece quite enjoyed giving a graphic description of the past perils of Green Ginger Land and of her horror at seeing Micky in the hands of the policeman. It was only when she had come to the end of her tale and Aunt Grace remained silent that she remembered it had really been in the nature of a confession.
‘Are you going to scold me, Aunt Grace?’ she asked at the end, a little uneasily.
There was a moment’s pause before Aunt Grace answered: ‘No, I don’t think I will scold you. Of course, it was very wrong to adopt the child without leave, but I think what has happened has taught you just how wrong and foolish it was better than anything I could say. And in itself it was a good and beautiful thing to want to help poor little Diamond Jubilee to a better life.’
Again there was a silence. Then Emmeline said timidly: ‘Do you know, Aunt Grace, I always thought you didn’t care about such things.’
‘What made you think I didn’t?’ asked Aunt Grace, who did not seem at all offended.
‘Because—because’—Emmeline stammered and turned rather red, ‘you seemed almost to dislike that wonderful little girl Mr. Faulkner told us about—I mean the one who was so very good to the poor children.’
‘I’m sure she was a little prig,’ said Aunt Grace, quickly, ‘and, anyhow, she wasn’t worthy of all the fuss Mr. Faulkner was making about her. But it doesn’t follow, because I don’t think very much of that particular little girl, that I don’t like other little girls trying to do unselfish things, even if they make mistakes sometimes, for I do’; and once more she bent down and kissed Emmeline. A sudden recollection stung Emmeline.
‘You wouldn’t think nearly so well of me if you knew everything,’ she blurted out; ‘there’s something ever so much worse I was forgetting to tell you. We had spent all our money that day we went to the Fair, and—and I thought we might use the extra money-box money to buy Diamond Jubilee’s food with. You see we had collected it for children like him.’ She broke off, not knowing how to tell the rest.
‘You had collected it on the understanding that it was for the Home, not to buy chocolates and monkey-nuts for any ragged little boy you chanced to come across,’ said Aunt Grace gently, ‘so I’m afraid you’ll have to pay it back gradually out of your pocket-money. By the way, did you buy your railway ticket out of the extra money-box fund?’
‘Oh no, I borrowed that from the chickens’ money, and I did mean to pay it back next Saturday. But that isn’t all I was going to tell you’—she turned away her head—‘I as good as told a story about the extra money-box money afterwards’—her voice grew choky—‘Jane found out it was empty, like the prying old thing she is, and said she was sure Alice had taken the money, as she had been doing my room.’