"Theodora, please," the girl answered, flushing a little. "Teddy was my baby name; but I'm not a baby any longer. The others have called me Teddy so long that I can't break them of the habit; but I don't like the name."

"It suits you, though," Mrs. McAlister said, smiling as her eyes rested on the intent young face beside her. "But I'll try to remember. And now I wish you'd tell me a little about the younger ones, Phebe and Allyn.

Your father told me that Hope was the housekeeper, but that, in some ways, you were the real mother of them all."

Theodora's face lighted, and she laughed.

"Did he truly say that? Hope has the real care of them, and she never fights with them, as I do."

There was an amusing, off-hand directness in Theodora's tone which pleased her stepmother. Already she felt more at home and on cordial terms with the outspoken girl than with the gentle, courteous Hope; yet she realized that her own course was by no means open before her, that it would be long before Theodora would accept her sway in the home. It would be necessary to proceed slowly, but firmly. Little Allyn and fractious Phebe would be less difficult for her to manage than their older sister. She lingered for half an hour longer, talking with Theodora until she heard Dr. McAlister's step upon the stairs; and when at last she left the room, Theodora's good-night sounded quite as cordial as her own.

CHAPTER FOUR

"I wish I could have all my wishes granted," Theodora said.

She was sitting in her favorite position on the gra.s.s beside Billy's lounge, with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her clasped hands.

Billy, propped up among his cushions, smiled back at her benignly.

"You'd be most awfully disagreeable to live with," he returned.

"Thank you for the compliment. I'd like to run the risk, though."

"Let me move out of town first," the boy replied teasingly. "But you needn't be greedy; I'd be satisfied to have one wish."

"That's because you don't need so many things as I do."

"It's because I have one thing I want so much more than I do the others," he retorted.

She looked up at him with a sudden flash of tenderness in her eyes.

"I know," she said gently; "but it won't be long."

"Months, though. How would you like it to take a year out of your life?"

Theodora's brows contracted.

"Don't you suppose I ever think about it, Billy Farrington? I should be frantic, if I were in your place, and I don't see how you ever stand it.

It makes my wishes seem so small, in comparison. I'd rather be poorer than Job's turkey than spend even one month on my back. Does it hurt; or is it just that you can't do things? Either one is bad enough."

"It hurts sometimes."

"Now?"

He nodded.

"I thought you looked tired, as if something bothered you," Theodora said penitently; "and here I've stayed talking to you, when you'd rather have been by yourself."

"Honestly, no. You make me forget things." He held out his hand in protest, as she started to rise. "Sit down again."

She obeyed him; but she fell silent, as she sat looking up at him. He had more color than usual, she noticed; but there were fine lines between his brows, and his red-gold hair was pushed back from his face, as if its weight irritated him.

"But what are the wishes?" he asked, restive under her scrutiny, and seeking to divert her.

"Oh, I have dozens and dozens; but there are three great big ones which increase in greatness as they go on."

"What are they?" he asked curiously. "You'll get them, if you wait long enough. People always do."

"I don't believe it. These are all impossible, and I never expect to get them; but I want them, all the same. I want--" She hesitated, laughing and blushing a little. "You'll make fun of me."

"No, I won't. Go on and tell."

"I want a bicycle first. Then I want to go to college." She hesitated again and stuck fast.

"And then?"

She raised her head and spoke rapidly.

"Don't laugh; but I want some day to be an author and write books."

She started abruptly, for a white hand suddenly rested on her shoulder.

"Bravo, Miss Teddy!--for it is Miss Teddy; isn't it? Will has told me about you and I'm glad to get a glimpse of you at last. Your wishes are good ones, all of them, and I hope you will get them, and get them soon."

As she spoke, Mrs. Farrington moved across and seated herself on the edge of the lounge.

"How is the pain, Will?" she asked, bending over to settle him more comfortably. "I was sorry to leave you so long; but you were in good hands. Miss Teddy, this boy of mine says that you have been very good to him, since we came here."

Theodora flushed a little. It was the first time she had been face to face with Mrs. Farrington, and she found the slender figure in its unrelieved black gown rather awe-inspiring. She began to wish that she had taken Hope's advice and remained upon her own side of the fence.

During the past ten days, her neighborly calls had been frequent; but she had always before now succeeded in making her escape before any one else appeared. Hubert, in the meantime, had dutifully called on his new neighbor; but he had called decorously and by way of the front gate, at a time when Billy was out with his mother for their daily drive, so Mrs.

Farrington had caught no glimpse of their young neighbors who had it in their power to make such a difference in her son's life. She had been amused and interested in Billy's account of Theodora's erratic calls, and she had felt an instant liking for the bright-faced, straightforward young girl who was as free from self-consciousness as Billy himself.

"When is your father coming back?" she asked, after a pause, during which she became conscious of Theodora's searching scrutiny.

"Day after to-morrow, I think. We had a letter from him, this morning."

"I am so glad," Mrs. Farrington said. "I want him to see Will as soon as he comes. Dr. Parker spoke so highly of him that I feel it is everything for us to be so near him as we are."

Theodora's color came. She was intensely loyal to her father, and praise of him was sweet to her ears.

"People say that papa is a good doctor," she replied frankly. "I hope he'll be able to help Billy. Anyway, we're all so glad to have somebody living here again. It's ages since the house has been occupied."

Mrs. Farrington smiled.

"I should judge so from the general air of mustiness I find. I rejoice in all this bright, warm weather, so Will can live out of doors. The house feels fairly clammy, and I don't like to have him in it, more than I can help. I hope you are going to be very neighborly, all of you, this coming winter."