Mrs. Procter looked questioningly at Daphne, who stood close to Suzanna's protecting arm.
"Stay with Maizie a moment, Daphne," said Suzanna, "while I tell my mother something." Daphne smiled and did as she was told, and Suzanna went close to Mrs. Procter. In a low tone she said: "Daphne's mother went far away awhile ago, and I'm telling this to you in a low voice because Daphne cried when we asked her where her mother was. I brought her home so she could remember how beautiful a mother is."
In an instant the tears sprang to Mrs. Procter's eyes. She went quickly to Daphne, and lifted the little girl.
"Sit down in a rocking chair with her," said Suzanna, "and hold her close up to you. And then when she's cuddled down, look at her like you do at our babies."
Mrs. Procter obeyed. Daphne nestled close. "Her father knows my father, Mrs. Procter," said Suzanna.
Mrs. Procter looked up quickly at this new mode of address. Suzanna explained.
"Daphne," she said, going close and looking down at the contented little face, "I'm giving you a share in my mother while you're here today. I give over the part I own in her to you, and I shall call her Mrs. Procter whenever you visit us."
"But you can't give away even your part in your very own mother," protested Maizie.
"But I have done so, haven't I?"
"Does just saying so make a thing true?" Maizie asked.