"Aunt Prue! she'll cry," remonstrated Marjorie.
"Little girls have to cry sometimes," returned Miss Prudence, her own eyes suffused.
"She is not rebellious," remarked Morris.
"No, never rebellious—not in words; she told me within the first half hour of our meeting that she had promised papa she would be obedient. But for that promise we might have had a contest of wills. She will not speak of school again till February."
"How she creeps into one's heart," said Morris.
Miss Prudence's reply was a flash of sunshine through the mist of her eyes.
Marjorie excused herself to find Prue and comfort her a little, promising to ask Aunt Prue to let her go to school with her one day every week, as a visitor, until the new quarter commenced.
Miss Prudence was not usually so strict, she reasoned within herself; why must she wait for another quarter? Was she afraid of the cold for Prue? She must be waiting for something. Perhaps it was to hear from Mr. Holmes, Marjorie reasoned; she consulted him with regard to every new movement of Prue's. She knew that when she wrote to him she called her "our little girl."
While Miss Prudence and Morris lingered at the breakfast table they caught sounds of romping and laughter on the staircase and in the hall above.
"Those two are my sunshine," said Miss Prudence.