“How?” Mr. Westabrook asked with his disturbing brevity.
“By letting you study the things you want, in the way you want to study them,” Rosie answered immediately.
“I guess that’s as good an answer as I could get,” Mr. Westabrook admitted. “What would you say,” he went on very slowly after a pause, “if we tried to have such a school as that here?” He continued apparently unconscious of the excitement which was developing in his hearers. “A school where, as Rosie says, you could study the things you want to study, in the way you want to study them. A school with plenty of books to read and dictionaries and encyclopedias and books of reference to consult. A book with all the newest maps and globes. A school with plenty of travel and discovery and exploration. A school with gardens to grow. A school with a magic lantern, an aquarium, and—”
Maida could contain herself no longer. “Father,” she burst out, “you’re going to have such a school for us!”
“I’ve got it,” Buffalo announced. “And you’re all going to that school this winter.”
“Oh my goodness,” Rosie said in a quiet awed voice, “if anything else happens I shall die of happiness.”
“Do our fathers and mothers know?” Laura asked.
“Know,” Mr. Westabrook repeated, though very tranquilly, “they helped to decide what you should study there.”
“And we won’t be separated after all,” Dicky declared in a voice shaken with happiness.
“No.”