"
"He has a very small income from his mother; his mother was not Prue's
father's mother."
"Why, do you know all about them?"
"Yes."
"Who told you? Aunt Prue hasn't told me."
"Mother knows. She knew Prue's father. I suspect some of the girls'
fathers in your school knew him, too."
"I don't know. He was rich once--here--I know that. Deborah told me where
he used to live; it's a handsome house, with handsome grounds, a stable
in the rear and an iron fence in front."
"I've seen it," said Morris, in his concisest tone. "Mr. Holmes and I
walked past one day. Mayor Parks lives there now."
"Clarissa Parks' father!" cried Marjorie, in an enlightened tone. "She's
in our first class, and if she studied she would learn something. She's
bright, but she hasn't motive enough."
"Do you think Mr. Holmes, will ever come home?" he asked.
"Why not? Of course he will," she answered in astonishment.
"That depends. Prue might bring him. I want to see him finished; there's
a fine finishment for him somewhere and I want to see it. For all that
is worth anything in me I have to thank him. He made me--as God lets one
man make another. I would like to live long enough to pass it on; to
make some one as he made me."
It was too cold to walk slowly, their words were spoken in brief, brisk
sentences.
There was nothing specially memorable in this walk, but Marjorie thought
of it many times; she remembered it because she was longing to ask him
what he had brought her and was ashamed to do it.
Pages:
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287