"Well, perhaps it can be managed. What would you say to going East with me next week, and spending the winter in New York?"
For the second time the hat Marjorie was trimming rolled unheeded into her lap, while she sat staring at her uncle with startled, wondering eyes. The proposal was so sudden—so undreamed of—that for the first moment she was speechless, and when words did come at last, they were only:
"You mean to spend the winter with you and Aunt Julia?"
"Yes, and to go to school with Elsie. I think your father and mother are rather anxious about your education."
"I know they are," said Marjorie, eagerly. "They wanted to send me to school at Albuquerque this autumn, but the drought spoiled the alfalfa crop, and there was disease among the cattle, so Father didn't feel he could afford it. I should love to see New York more than anything I can think of, but to go so far away from them all for a whole winter—oh, Uncle Henry, you're very kind to suggest it, but I really don't believe I could."
"Not if you knew your father and mother wished it very much, and that it would be a great relief to their minds?" Mr. Carleton spoke rather gravely, and Marjorie felt suddenly embarrassed.
"Of course I would try to do what they wanted me to," she said meekly, "but I don't believe they would be willing to have me go as far away from them. Albuquerque was different; I could have come home for the vacations from there. It's awfully good of you, Uncle Henry, and I would love to see Aunt Julia and Elsie, but New York is so far away."
"Only three days by train," said Mr. Carleton, smiling; "that ought not to seem much to you Westerners. You would find the life very different from that to which you have been accustomed, but I think you would enjoy it, and you must have an education, you know."
Marjorie blushed, and her eyes drooped.
"I want it very much," she said humbly. "If I were well educated, I might be able to teach, and to help Father and Mother in other ways. Uncle Henry, do you think it is my duty to go to New York?"