Mrs. Hartwell-Jones soothed her as best she could, wondering the while if she had done wrong to bring back the old associations.
“I know it is hard, dear little girl,” she whispered, “but I think some day you will be glad we came. It will help to fix the picture in your mind. It keeps our memories fresher and more precious, you know, if we have the pictures of their surroundings clearly in our mind.
“Take one last look, dear, and then we shall go. I pray I may be able to keep you as good and happy as your dear mother did, my precious little Letty!”
The cab moved slowly, with increasing speed, away from the dingy street, back to the gay, prosperous part of the city; back to the life that was to be Letty’s henceforth.
The child’s sobs soon ceased and she drew back from the comforting shoulder. But she still clung to Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s hand for solace, and there were tears in the brown eyes that tried bravely to smile.
“You are so good to me!” she exclaimed. “My mother would be so grateful to you if she knew!”
“She does know, up in heaven. I am sure she does, Letty, dear. And we shall both do our best to keep good and happy, shall we not? for that would please her best.
“And Letty dear, while we are on the subject, may I speak about something else regarding you and me? What do you want to call me, child? Have you thought about it at all? You know you can’t go on calling me Mrs. Hartwell-Jones,” she added with a little laugh, to aid Letty’s embarrassment. “How would ‘Aunt Mary’ do?”
Letty looked up shyly.
“I think that would be perfectly beautiful!” she ejaculated with a happy sigh. “If it is what you would like?” she added hastily.