Part 25 (1/2)

”Something important to talk to me about!” repeated Letty in astonishment. ”Oh, what is it?”

”Sit there, dear child, facing me. Now look up at me so that I can watch your eyes. Tell me, Letty dear, have you ever thought about what you would do when you grew up?”

”Not very much; not at all since I have been with you. Before-when I was with the circus I used to wonder what I could do to get away from it all. I knew that I could never stand it to go on travelling about with a circus all my life. Mrs. Drake was very good to me and the baby was dear! But I hated the life; living in tents, always on the go; no school, no little girl friends, no home!”

She sat looking at the floor thoughtfully for a moment.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”NOW LOOK UP AT ME”]

”I suppose I ought to have thought about it more,” she said humbly. ”I am afraid I have taken your kindness too much as a matter of course, dear Mrs. Hartwell-Jones. I shall try to show you how truly grateful I am to you for giving me such a happy home! And you know how delighted I am about boarding-school,” she added eagerly. ”It seems just like-well, almost like heaven to be like other girls and go to school to learn things and be happy. I shall study hard and be good in school to show how grateful I am. And then, perhaps, when I am grown up, I can teach and pay you back for all you are going to do for me.”

”You dear little girl!” cried Mrs. Hartwell-Jones with a sob in her voice, ”I want no thanks but your happiness!

”But now, listen to what I have to say. How would you like being somebody's little girl in earnest? To have a real home to go to in holiday time, and-and some one to love you and be as nearly a mother to you as it is possible to be?”

Letty looked puzzled and a little frightened.

”Have you found some of my relatives? some one to claim me?” she asked.

”Oh, Mrs. Hartwell-Jones, I don't want to leave you! I don't, I don't!

You have taken as great care of me as my mother could have. Please don't send me away!”

”No, no, dear, never. You don't understand, Letty darling. Do you know what adoption means?”

”No, I am afraid I don't,” said Letty meekly. She hung her head and blushed, embarra.s.sed as she always was at her ignorance, when asked the meaning of something she did not know.

”It means,” said Mrs. Hartwell-Jones slowly, ”that any one who wishes, and there are no reasons why one should not do so, can take a little girl or boy into one's home and make that child her very own, by law.

And it means, Letty darling, that if you are willing, I intend to take you to my home and make you my own little daughter!”

Letty sat staring at her with wide eyes. She was too bewildered-too overwhelmed to speak. Two great tears welled up in Mrs. Hartwell-Jones's eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Then she gave an odd little cry and stretched out her arms.

”Oh, my little girl, my little girl!” she whispered.

Neither of them knew how long they sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, not talking except for a quick question and answer now and then.

At last they were interrupted by a hesitating knock on the door, and Anna Parsons' voice was heard calling:

”Please, Mrs. Hartwell-Jones, mother says she is afraid the chocolate will spoil if it waits any longer.”

Letty laughed and springing to the door, threw it wide open.

”Oh, Anna,” she cried, ”I am the happiest girl in the whole wide world!

Bring in the chocolate and cakes, quick.”

Anna turned up her nose a trifle. It seemed rather a greedy thing to say that one was the happiest girl in the world at sight of hot chocolate and cakes-even if they were Madeira cakes. But then, she did not know the wonderful thing that had happened to Letty.

CHAPTER XVIII

A CABLEGRAM