“Oh! I knew. After a minute. Not just at first. Mother didn’t understand. I don’t s’pose she’s heard yet that he was gone. Move up nearer. Fix yourself comf’table. Let’s talk, instead of play dolls, now.”
Mary Jane pushed her low chair to the side of the cot, so close now that she could rest her head against Bonny-Gay’s own pillow.
“Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth!” admonished Polly, and in their laughter at his opportune command they failed to hear that somebody had entered the room and sat down quite near them. This was Bonny-Gay’s father, and he liked sometimes to surprise her by an unexpected visit of this sort, as well as to listen to the innocent chatter of this pair of “Sunday bairns.”
“How long is it, Mary Jane?”
“It was the very day you were hurt. Two whole weeks.”
“Well. That’s all right. Max is with him, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know. He went away with him. They both felt bad, I guess. That made them like to be together. Father’s powerful fond of dogs, any way.”
“And of the country, you said, too. I s’pose he’s in the country somewheres.”
“But where! I do want to see him so much. There is something I must tell him. Something he thinks is wrong, something that made him feel bad but should not. Something—Oh! I’ve seen all through things so clear, since he went. Every time he saw me I s’pose he was reminded that—My sake! What am I saying. But I’m so sorry about your mother not liking to send for me. I must have bothered her no end. I wouldn’t have come only—”
“You wouldn’t have come? Why, it was I who wanted you, who must have you. Don’t you know, you are my ‘twin sister?’ It’s all right. Mother would give me anything to have me pleased. Don’t think a thing about that. Let’s talk about the rest. Say, Mary Jane, say!” Excitedly.