“Yes, they called me that name--to hide who I was. Auntie said I should not let anyone know I was in a store,” said Miette.
“Very,” assented the lawyer. “Of course, we have cases with queer phases, but this has been, as you say, Major, remarkable. To think that we should have a client in our own city whom we were never able to see personally. The aunt insisted the child was at boarding school, and it was very likely a fear of detection that prompted her to send the girl to Glenwood finally.”
“And was the woman actually--wicked?” asked Mrs. White.
“No,” replied Mr. Pierce, “and I should have explained that earlier. Her mind was unbalanced, and she is now in a sanitarium.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Miette, “I often thought that! She was so different at times, but after my uncle went away she was very strange.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Pierce, “we have learned that her peculiar mania for money was not considered--well, dangerous by her husband, and when he went to the East Indies on a business trip he had no reason to fear that anything would go amiss with his niece. It was then that Mrs. Huber sent Miette to work--she explained that the girl would get an American education in that way.”
“The daughter of a marquis?” exclaimed Mrs. White.
“Exactly,” answered Mr. Pierce. “But we all know the cunning of those afflicted with mania. She was so adroit that she managed well to keep this little girl entirely out of our reach.”
“Now we must, of course, appoint a new guardian for Miette,” went on the lawyer, “and I have a request from Mr. Huber that some one be appointed who has had children to deal with. His wife was a person brought up singularly alone.”
“Could I choose?” asked Miette, innocently.
“You might suggest,” answered the lawyer.
“Then I would so like--Dorothy’s Aunt Winnie--”
“My dear child!” expostulated Mrs. White. “I have a veritable institution on my hands now--”
“Oh, do, Aunt Winnie!” begged Dorothy, throwing her arms about the lovely woman without regard for the presence of the stranger. “I am sure Miette will help take care of me, and I will help take care of Miette.”
“I have always had a sacred love for the orphan,” spoke up Major Dale. “In fact, I do honestly believe that when a helpless child comes to our home, in need of a strong arm to guide and lead the way through life, that such a one is heaven sent. And if there is no technical or legal objection, I would urge you, sister, to listen to the cry of the children here,” pointing to Dorothy and Miette.