Not all at once but slowly, with mother’s tact, Mrs. Bennett won the little heart to partial peace; and when the gate clicked, and Billy’s voice was heard, she was almost gay. “I must be laughing when they come in,” she whispered, “so they won’t see the tears in my eyes and think I am unthankful.”
The door opened on a smiling little face, though she tried to keep in the shadow. Still when Billy kissed his mother good-night, caught his sister in his arms and raced up and down with her, singing extravagantly a snatch from some opera, May Nell hid her face and cried again.
Watchful Mrs. Bennett was not far away. She stopped the boy’s noise, and cuddled the bereft one once more. “What is it, child? You are to be brave, you know.”
“Y-yes, b-but how can I when I have no one to say ‘mama’ to, only a Mrs.”
“You have, you have, dear baby! I’ll be your mother, and you can call me ‘mamma’ as Billy does.”
“And you’re my Ladybird sister,” Billy said, very softly for him, and threw his arm about them both.
“And, darling, I know how to find your mother,” Edith encouraged, brushing her own moist eyes, and clasping them all in her round young arms. “I’ll have your picture taken, and get it in all the papers—”
“Just like a football champion,” Billy interrupted.
“No, like a prima donna,” his sister retorted.
“Rather like a dear little girl, that so will find her mother,” Mrs. Bennett reassured.