“They make mothers glad and they make them laugh—by being mighty good.”
Then both Betty and Ann looked at Lynda. The sharp, outer air had brought colour to her cheeks, life to her eyes. She was very handsome in her rich furs and dark, feathered hat.
“Now, little Ann, trot along and do the lesson, don’t forget!” Betty pushed the child gently toward Lynda.
With a laugh, lately learned and a bit doubtful, Ann ran to the opened arms.
“Snuggle!” commanded Betty.
“I’m learning, little Ann,” Lynda whispered, “you’re a dear teacher. And now I have something to tell you.”
Ann leaned back and looked with suspicion at Lynda. Her recent past had been so crowded with events that she was wary and overburdened.
“What?” she asked, with more dread than interest.
“Ann, I’m going to take you to a big house that is waiting for a—little girl.”
The child turned to Betty.