“I ain’t wanted,” she said, her head low. “I made up my mind to go back to my own folks. I’m not going to be adopted any more.” 144
David led her to the deep window-seat and made her sit facing him. He was too wise to attempt a caress with this issue between them.
“Do you think that’s altogether fair to me?” he asked presently.
“I guess it won’t make much difference to you. Something else will come along.”
“Do you think it will be fair to your other aunts and uncles who have given so much care and thought to your welfare?”
“They’ll get tired of their bargain.”
“If they do get tired of their bargain it will be because they’ve turned out to be very poor sports. I’ve known every one of them a long time, and I’ve never known them to show any signs of poor sportsmanship yet. If you run away without giving them their chance to make good, it will be you who are the poor sport.”
“She said you would marry and get tired of me, and I would have to go back to the country. If you marry and Uncle Jimmie marries—then Uncle Peter will marry, and—”
“You’d still have your Aunts Beulah and Margaret and Gertrude,” David could not resist making the suggestion. 145
“They could do it, too. If one person broke up the vow, I guess they all would. Misfortunes never come singly.”