“Let Morris do it his way,” begged Merriam. “You may be sure Balcomb won’t lose anything.”
“I’m afraid he won’t,” said Leighton, and left them.
“Sit down, Zee,” said Merriam, as Zelda rose.
“I must go back to father,—you can imagine that these things haven’t added to his happiness.”
“Humph!” and Rodney folded his arms and regarded Zelda thoughtfully.
“I wish you wouldn’t say ‘humph!’ to me, mon oncle! It isn’t polite.”
“Zee,” said the old gentleman, kindly; “what do you intend doing? I suppose you have no plans,—but you must let me make some for you.”
“Of course I have plans; they are all perfected, and they are charming. There’s no use in talking to you about them. I’ve given you enough trouble.”
“I hope you’ll give me more! As long as my troubles are confined to you I’ll try to bear them.”
“Oh sir, thank you,—as the young thing always says to the good fairy uncle in the story-books. Well, as you seem sympathetic I’ll tell you. You remember that little Harrison Street house where Olive lived? Well, they owed father some money and the house was mortgaged. Olive wouldn’t let me release the mortgage,—or whatever they call it; but it’s the dearest house in town. Olive and her mother are going to move into a flat. I loved that house the first time I stepped inside of it. Well, I’m going to sell the farm and the old house where we live, and anything else we happen to have, and move to Harrison Street; and I’m going to give music lessons; and I can get a place to sing in a church whenever I please. I’ve had offers, in fact. It’s all perfectly rosy and beautiful,—” and she stretched out her arms and played an ascending scale of felicity in the air with her fingers. “Perhaps, sometimes, you will come over to see us in the new place!”