Martin accompanied Doris to Dondale. He was "Uncle David" to the children and part of their happy lives.
"Take—take good care of Aunt Dorrie," Nancy pleaded with him at parting, her poor little face distorted by the effort she was making.
"You bet!" Martin bent and kissed the child. He approved of Nancy. Martin could never patiently endure complications, and Nancy was simple and direct. Joan was another matter. At the last she was in high spirits.
"It's going to be great," she whispered to Doris. "All the girls and the new games and the comings home for holidays and—and everything."
It was after they were alone that Nancy called down extra suffering upon herself.
"Aunt Dorrie will think you did not care, Joan, and Uncle David scowled. You make people think queer things about you."
Joan turned and fixed Nancy with flaming eyes.
"I want Aunt Dorrie to think everything is all right—you didn't! You did not cheat her. I did—for her sake."
"Perhaps," Nancy sometimes struck a high note, unsuspectingly, "perhaps Aunt Dorrie would rather have you care."
Joan regarded her intently and then replied: