“Oh, say, couldn’t she take an airship and hurry?” burst out Florimel, her face crimson with impatient excitement.
“If she needs an escort over, I could start Saturday, if they’d give me two weeks out of the office now, instead of a summer vacation,” added Win.
“She will come with her maid, if you invite her,” said Mr. Moulton. “She is not poor; Mrs. Garden is really rather a wealthy woman, I imagine. It is not because she needs support that she wants to come.”
“Of course not; she needs us, her daughters!” cried Mary.
“And we need her, if only to pet,” Jane supplemented her.
“I am bound to tell you one thing, my dears,” said Mr. Moulton. “You are free to do precisely as you wish in the matter. There were some of us who would not accept the responsibility for you—myself and some of the Gardens—unless we were to have it completely. When your mother went back to England, leaving you here, Florimel still a baby, you know, she signed an agreement to relinquish all claim upon you and upon this estate. She has no legal claim upon you. I am bound to tell you that.”
“As though one remembered law about one’s mother!” cried Jane, losing all hold on words.
“’Specially when she’s lost her voice and needs us,” said Florimel.
“She could not alter things with pen and ink, Mr. Moulton,” said sweet Mary. And Mr. Moulton drew her to him and kissed her.
“Such true little girls!” he said. “What’s a voice and the public to lose if the loss gains you three?”