“You do desire it, papa; don’t you?” added Molly eagerly.
“If your mamma does, my daughter.”
“It will be difficult to leave so soon,” remarked Mrs. Rowe, thoughtfully stroking Donald’s restless fingers.
“But we children can help,” said Molly quickly. “We have helped a great deal since vacation; now, haven’t we, mamma?”
“Certainly you have, my dear,” returned Mrs. Rowe with a smile. Did Molly remember that this vacation was as yet hardly two days old?
The first thing that Molly did after luncheon by way of helping, was to run across the street to Captain Bradstreet’s to signal to Pauline in the cheery trill that all school-girls know.
“Mrs. Kitto can take us, Polly! We’re going Wednesday!” she cried, as Pauline came dancing out, her long hair floating behind her like a black flag.
“You are, Molly? Papa says we sha’n’t be off before the first of next month. But he has partly promised to let Paul and me stop at Santa Luzia on the way.”
“O Pauline, how perfectly lovely!”
“I didn’t believe he’d ever think of such a thing,” said Pauline, braiding her hair. “He’s so silly about us twins since mamma died. Can’t bear to have us out of his sight.”