“So I understand. But I want little Miss Allegra myself and I’m—well—I’m prepared to make it worth while to be reasonable.”
Thereat the Howland person thawed somewhat,—not much.
“Come in,” she conceded.
She led the way into a bare cheerless “office.” Mrs. Theddon sat down and raised her black veil.
“I saw the child in the Park yesterday. I talked with her. And when I got home last night—in bed—I realized—how very much I should like to have such a little girl. I have no children. My husband was killed last year in the Philippines.”
Miss Howland, it developed, was a “toe-tapper” and a Competent Person. Moreover, she had dealt with finicky patronesses of the Orphanage for years. She tapped her toe now, though her face maintained its wooden expression.
“So I understand, Mrs. Theddon. But you see—I also love Allegra—she is such a help to me about the place——”
“You don’t make that delicate little girl work!”
“No, no! Not work! Merely a few chores to give her a sense of responsibility—looking after the younger children and all that. They are an awful care at times, Mrs. Theddon—an awful care.”
Mrs. Theddon was duly solicitous. She knew the Howland type and how to “handle” it. Ten minutes were spent ingratiating herself into the superintendent’s sympathies and the Howland woman thawed.