Sally knew very well whose money there would be enough of, if Fox's suggestion were accepted. It would mean that Fox would support them; for she knew, too, that they did not have money enough. Oh, mercy, no, not nearly enough; not enough even for them to pretend that it would do. But she must be with her mother, and Charlie must, too. She would not let Charlie be a bother. It would be a little harder than it used to be, the care of Charlie, for Cousin Patty had—well—and Sally did not say it, even to herself. She felt that it would be almost treason. What should she do? What could she do, for that matter? It needed thought.
So Uncle John found a sober and serious Sally waiting for him. He noted it at once.
"What is it, Sally?" he asked. "Not bad news, I hope?"
He spoke rather anxiously. Sally's worries were his concern; and that was not such a bad state of affairs either.
Sally smiled up at him. "Oh, no," she said. "It's good news, but I have to think what I shall do." And she told him all about it.
They were well on their way home by the time Sally had finished her exposition of the question which troubled her. It was too new to her to have been thought out and Sally presented every aspect as it occurred to her.
"It seems to be a large question," said Uncle John thoughtfully, "for a little girl to have to answer, all by herself." Suddenly he turned and looked at Sally. "Bless me! You aren't little any more. I must stop calling you a little girl. How old are you, Sally?"
"Fifteen last spring," Sally replied. "Had you forgotten, Uncle John?"
"No, oh, no, I suppose not, but it is hard to realize that you are growing up so fast. Why, you are nearly as tall as I am. And how long have you been with us?"
"Almost four years, Uncle John."