"The school year ends then, does it not?"
"May I ask, what is to be done with her after next June?"
"I will take her into my own care."
"What does Mrs. Busby say to that?" Mrs. Mowbray inquired, still doubtful and mystified.
"She says nothing," said Rotha. "She has nothing to say. She never had any right to say what I should do, except the right Mr. Southwode gave her." She felt a secret triumph in the knowledge that now at least Mrs. Mowbray would have to accept Mr. Southwode and make the best she could of him.
"Have you come from Mrs. Busby now?"
"No, madame; Mr. Southwode brought me straight here."
And then followed of course the story of the past five months. Rotha gave it as briefly as she could, slurring over as much as possible her aunt's action and motives, and giving a bare skeleton of the facts. Mrs. Mowbray's mystified expression did not clear away.
"Chicago?" she said. "I do not think Mrs. Busby has been to Chicago. My impression is strong, that she has been in or near New York, all summer."
"So she was, madame."