“I’d like it,” she agreed, promptly. “I never had a nickname.”
“All right, that’s settled. Don’t you think it’s queer we feel so well acquainted, just from the letters we’ve written? Do you realise that it’s twelve years since I even saw you? We lived abroad ten whole years, you know. Mother was saying, last night, that I’d spent two years more of my life in Europe than in this country, so far. I’m a pretty good American, though, for all that. The last two years here in Channing seem worth more than the whole ten on the other side. My father feels the same way, too, and he’s mighty happy to think that you and Aunt Sula and grandfather are coming to live so near us.”
“And perhaps we’re not happy about it too! You ought to hear the plans Aunt Sula and I have made for this winter. We’re going to make the most of the chance to hear good music, and see all the exhibitions at the Art Institute, for one thing.”
“Whew! How cultured we are!”
“We aren’t, yet, but wait!” Jacquette laughed. Then she added, seriously, “Our plans aren’t all selfish, though. We’re hoping we can interest grandfather in some of the new things, and make him happier. He has been so lonely since grandmother died, Quis.”
“I suppose he has. How soon are they coming?”
“Oh, it will be six weeks or two months before Aunt Sula can settle up things and leave Brookdale. I ought to be there to help her, but she was so anxious to have me begin school the first day that she made me come.”
“Then you’re going to stay at our house six weeks or more. That’s great. Perhaps you’ll make up your mind to live with us all the time after this.”
“Aunt Sula wouldn’t hear of that,” Jacquette said, smiling. “She thinks I belong to her as much as if I were her very own daughter. I guess I do, too. She’s taken care of me ever since I was three years old, you know.”
“Three!” Marquis repeated, in a softened tone. “Were you that little when your father and mother died, Jack?”