David glanced over at Reba. "You've got to come home, Reba," he murmured. "We come down to fetch you home."
The tone of her father's voice alarmed Reba. Was it money? Had they lost all their money?
"What's happened? Tell me what's happened, Father."
"You tell her, Augusta," he appealed.
Reba turned to her aunt. There was a kind of sanctimonious expression about her, the same pious look which Reba had seen there before, especially on Communion Sundays at home after Aunt Augusta had raised her head from silent prayer.
"Well, Aunt Emma and I aren't going to make our home in Ridgefield any more," she announced impressively.
"Where are you going to make it?" gasped Reba.
"We're going to live with Cousin Syringa up in Machias. She's all alone up there with that half-witted boy of hers, and we're going to help her out."
"But—but—" feebly remonstrated Reba, "she's always been alone with him since he was born thirty years ago, hasn't she? You never felt you had to go before, did you? Why just now? Why do you have to go just now?"
"It's come to us as our duty," she told Reba briefly.
"But she—Cousin Syringa's just a cousin, while Mother's your own sister, and"
"Syringa has no daughter," cut in Aunt Augusta, "while Eunice has got you to take care of her," she brought out with a triumphant smile.
"When do you plan to go?"
