Micky was driving the white team, and Virginia noticed that at times he shivered. His overcoat, it was very evident, had been cut down from an old one of his father’s and it was threadbare in places, while in others it was badly in need of repair. Almost unconsciously Virginia made a mental note of this.
Mrs. Martin, sitting by the side of the tall, bright-eyed maiden, smiled at her lovingly. “Virginia,” she said, “I feel like a school girl playing truant, don’t you?”
“I feel eager, as though something very interesting was about to happen.” Then, with renewed interest, Virg continued: “Oh, Mrs. Martin, do tell me more about those unfortunate daughters of the eccentric old sea captain.”
“You are right. They were, indeed, unfortunate. Eleanora’s husband, whose name was Mr. Craven, I believe, disappeared a year after the birth of their child, and the disappointed young mother took back her father’s name. Since then she has supported them both, doing settlement work in Boston.
“Dorinda was heard from until her son was eight. That was 10 years ago. After that the letters sent to her by Eleanora were returned, unopened, and on them was often written in a strange foreign hand, ‘Address unknown.’”
“And so what became of the sister to whom she was so devoted and to that sister’s son, the mother of your friend Eleanor never knew?”
When Micky turned in at the drive between the high hedge on the side farthest from town the door of the old house was thrown open and a truly beautiful young girl appeared. Although her skin was olive in hue, a ruddy color glowed beneath it, and her eyes were a soft, dreamy brown, while long curls, held together at her neck with a bright-colored ribbon bow, hung to her waist.
Her expression brightened when she saw who their early morning visitors were and she darted within, probably to tell her mother who was arriving, but she was back in the open door by the time that Mrs. Martin and Virginia were ascending the well-shoveled front porch.
“And so you are my Eleanora’s little daughter,” the older woman said, graciously holding out her gloved hand to the girl. “I was sorry not to see you when you and your mother were here two summers ago. The last time I saw you, I think, was when you were seven.”
“Oh, I just know that you are Mrs. Martin,” the girl said eagerly, while Virginia hastened to apologize. “Pardon me for not having introduced you, Mrs. Martin. You did not tell me, that is, I really supposed that you were well acquainted.”