“You promise?” Silva’s weak voice entreated; it almost threatened.
“I cross my throat and my heart!” Unseen by Silva, Maida solemnly performed these rituals of the pledged word.
“And you’re sure she’s all right?”
“Sure,” Maida answered. “You ought to hear her laugh and coo.”
“Ask her how often they feed her,” came from Rosie’s clear voice from behind. Maida repeated the question.
“Four times a day—at nine; at twelve; at three and at six, and then at night.”
“That’s what Rosie said,” Maida explained, “four in the day and one at night.”
“I can never thank you enough.” Silva’s voice had something in it that Maida had never heard there before. “But some day— Here they are coming up the stairs. I must get back to bed.” Silva’s voice cut off quickly. Maida listened for a while, but there was no sound.
A babble of questions assailed her when she dropped the receiver. She told them all she knew.
“Who would have thought that baby would have turned out to be Silva Burle’s sister!” Rosie remarked thoughtfully.