“I—I make up stories sometimes to myself and—and songs.”
“Oh, do you sing?” put in Christopher. “What sort of songs? Sing us one, that’s a good girl.”
“I only know two or three songs with tunes to them. I’ll sing them for you some time, but not now. I must go see if Mrs. Hartwell-Jones needs me.”
“Everything Mrs. Drake could tell me was satisfactory,” Mrs. Hartwell-Jones was saying to grandmother. “Letty’s mother, it seems, must have been a very unusual woman, a ‘real lady’ Mrs. Drake called her.”
“I remember my daughter-in-law said the same thing,” put in grandmother.
“The son was fond of his little sister but careless of her and too fond of his own good times. The Drakes have kept her on with them since her brother’s death out of pure kindness of heart. Mrs. Drake said she thought of trying to get Letty a place as nursemaid when they went back to the city; she is so fond of children and so patient and good to Mrs. Drake’s baby. You should have seen how Letty cried and hugged that baby when we came away.”
“How sad it would have been,” said grandmother, “to have cast that poor child upon the world at her age.”
“What a mercy it is that your dear little Janey gave me my idea. In the past I have done what I could for charity, as every one does; that is, I have given sums of money to different hospitals and all that. But I have always wanted to have some personal work to do, and now I have it, in bringing up this poor orphaned child.”
“And you will grow fond of her, too,” added grandmother. “She has such a sweet face and such nice, thoughtful ways.”
“I think I am fond of her already; fond and interested.”