“How many are there in this scheme? How many such daring members are there?”
“Well,” answered Hilda, “there are four of us here; for of course you are in it. Then that wonderful brother of ours is the lover of a sweet girl in that western home of yours. Margaret Leland is her name.”
“Margaret Leland!” interrupted Cora, and looked inquiringly at Imelda. “Was there not—”
“The same,” said Imelda. “She was employed at the same store where we used to work, and for years has been my best friend. It is to her largely that I am indebted for my present views. But now please let Hilda proceed.”
“Well,” continued Hilda, “Margaret’s mother comes next. From all accounts we could not well get along without her and—well, I don’t know. Is there anyone else?”—looking inquiringly at the girls.
“I think,” answered Imelda, “It will be perfectly safe to count Mrs. Westcot in—‘Alice Day,’ Cora, I was speaking of her before. That makes seven, I believe, and who knows, by the time ‘our home’ is built there may be as many more.”
“And how many lovers are there?” asked Cora. This caused a little laugh.
“One I know, and two I believe,” was Imelda’s answer to Cora’s question. “Wilbur Wallace, the brother of these dear girls, we can be sure of, and Norman Carlton I hope may soon be able to see clear enough to be willing that woman should in all things decide for herself.”
“Who is Norman Carlton?”
A beautiful rosy color swept over Imelda’s sweet face, and Cora was answered. “O,” she said with a slight gasping sound, “now I know how you understood so well.” Then Hilda spoke: