“Naturally, since that is my present name. Mr. Allen died long ago, and two years later I married Frederick’s uncle. But pray, Miss Bayley, why has the discovery of my former name occasioned you so much concern?”
“Because you are also the aunt of the four children named Martin who are our protégés here in the mountains,” Frederick began. But the face of the older woman hardened. “You are mistaken,” she said. “The children of whom you speak are related to my first husband, but in no way to me; and, since he is dead, I see no reason why I should look up his poor relatives, and, what is more, I shall not do so.”
The young man’s voice was almost severe when he asked, “You knew of their need, then?”
“Some banker wrote me last year concerning these children, and I replied that I was not at all interested in hearing about them. However, I thought the name of their town was Genoa.” Then, turning to the school-teacher, who was finding it very hard to listen quietly, the older woman said, “Miss Bayley, if you will give up this ridiculous notion of teaching school and will come with me, I will forgive you both and take you into my home, but mind, I wish never again to hear the name of Martin.”
“I thank you for your offer, but I have made other plans,” was Josephine’s reply. “When the spring term is finished, I shall return to my New York home and take with me the four Martin children.”
“Then, as there is nothing more to be said, I will bid you good-morning.” Haughtily saying this, the aunt left the room, and did not even glance at her second husband’s nephew.
“Shall we tell the children?” was Josephine’s first question as they left the inn.
“No,” Frederick replied. “Mrs. Edrington is their aunt only by marriage, as she is mine.” Then he added, “Dearest, what a wonderful home you and I are to have with such nice kiddies in it.”
“Aren’t we?” the girl smiled up at him. “We shall be happy just because we are all together.” Then she continued, “I want to make those four little Martins the happiest children in all the world.”
THE END