“Is she my aunt?” demanded Henrietta, composedly.
“We-ell, sort of,” said Bertha.
“I can come and see Miss Jessie and Miss Amy once in a while, can’t I?”
“Of course you can.”
“And the Foleys?” demanded the freckle-faced girl.
“And the Foleys.”
“I guess I’ll have to take Mrs. Foley’s purple parasol back,” said the child. “You ain’t seen that, Bertha. It’s awful stylish.”
Here Amy Drew broke in:
“I think it is wonderful, Bertha,” she said. “And Mr. Blair is an awfully nice man.”
“I somehow felt that you were related to him, from the beginning,” Jessie remarked.