"
Sheba stooped and held him off to admire. "All by yourself--just think
of that."
"We helped just the teeniest bit on the buttons," confessed Janet, the
oldest of the small family.
"And I tied his shoes," added Gwendolen, "after he had laced them."
"Billie will be such a big man Daddie won't know him." And Sheba gave
him another hug.
Gwendolen snuggled close to Miss O'Neill. "You always smell so sweet and
clean and violety, Aunt Sheba," she whispered in confidence.
"You're spoiling me, Gwen," laughed the young woman. "You've kissed the
blarney stone. It's a good thing you're leaving the boat to-day."
Miss Gwen had one more confidence to make in the ear of her friend.
"I wish you'd come too and be our new mamma," she begged.
A shell-pink tinge crept into the milky skin of the Irish girl. She was
less sure of herself, more easily embarrassed, than the average American
of her age and sex. Occasionally in her manner was that effect of
shyness one finds in the British even after they have escaped from
provincialism.
"Are all your things gathered ready for packing, Janet?" she asked
quietly.
The purser gave information to Elliot. "They call her Aunt Sheba,
but she's no relative of theirs.
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