"I'd rather come here with you, and sing these bird notes than anything else I ever did," she answered.
Malcolm advanced another long stride.
"Mother, is Susan a pounding, beating person like Lucette?" he asked anxiously.
"No," she said softly. "Susan likes children. When she's not busy for me, she goes into the music room and plays games, and sings songs to little sick people."
"Because you know," said Malcolm, "James and I talk it over when we are alone, we never let father hear because he loved Elizabeth so, and he's so fine—mother you were mistaken about father not being a gentleman, not even Mr. Dovesky is a finer gentleman than father—and father loved her so; but mother, James and I saw. We believe if it had been the cream, it would have made us sick too, and we're so ashamed of what we did; if we had another chance, we'd be as good to a little sister as father is to us. Mother, we wish we had her back so we could try again——"
Nellie Minturn shut her eyes and swayed on her feet, but presently she spoke in a harsh, breathless whisper, yet it carried, even to the ears of the listening man.
"Yes Malcolm, I'd give my life, oh so gladly if I could bring her back and try over——"
"You wouldn't have any person like Lucette around, would you mother?" he questioned.
"Not ever again Malcolm," she answered. "I'd have Little Sister back if it were possible, but that can't ever be, because when we lose people as Elizabeth went, they never can come back; but I'll offer my life to come as near replacing her as possible, and everywhere I've neglected you, and James, and father. I'll do the best there is in me, if any of you love me, or want me in the least, or will give me an opportunity to try."
"Mother, would you come where we are? Would you live as we do?" marvelled the boy.