The night of Mrs. Franklin's arrival they talked over the new state of family affairs.
"I think she is nice," said Cynthia, with decision. "I like her, and so does Jack."
She was perched on the side of the bed, leaning against the tall post, her favorite position when she had anything of especial interest to discuss.
"I DON'T LIKE HER, AND I WON'T!"
"I don't," said Edith, who was brushing out her long hair with great vigor. "I don't like her, and I won't."
"That is just it, Edith. You have made up your mind you won't like her just because you didn't want her to come. Now she is here, why don't you make the best of it? What do you dislike about her?"
"Her coming here. She had no right to."
"Edith, how silly you are! She wouldn't have come if papa had not asked her, and she wouldn't have if she had not loved papa. I should think you would like her for that if nothing else. I do. And she is pretty and sweet and dear, and I am going to help her all I can. I think I shall even call her 'mamma.'"
"Cynthia, I shall never do that. Never, to my dying day!"