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"Yes, dear," said Mr. Maynard, looking fondly at his impetuous daughter; "I'll think about it right now, -- and I'll express my thoughts aloud, as I think them. I think, first, that you're a generous and kind-hearted little girl to want to give this poor child a home. And I think next, that having made your suggestion, you must leave it to Mother and me to decide the matter. And our decision is that four children are quite enough for this family, and we don't want to adopt any more! Besides this, Marjorie, it is far from likely that the little girl would be allowed to come to us. She is being trained for her profession, and though I feel sorry that the child is not happy, yet she is with her own people, and they are responsible for the shaping of her life and career. Just now, you are carried away by sympathy for the little girl, and I don't blame you at all, for it is a sad case. But you must trust your father's judgment, when he tells you that he does not think it wise to follow out your suggestion."
Marjorie looked disappointed, but she well knew that when her father talked thus seriously, there was no use in pursuing the subject; so she only said, "All right, Father; I know you know best. But it does seem too bad for Vivian not to have any home pleasures, when I have so many!"
"It does seem too bad, Marjorie, but since you can't help her in any way, turn your thoughts to feeling glad and grateful that you yourself have a happy home, and can wear button boots."
Marjorie laughed at her father's last words, but she knew that "button boots" stood for the civilized dress of the home-child, as contrasted with the stage trappings of the little Vivian.
So she put the photograph away among her treasures, and often looked at it, and wondered if Vivian still longed for the sort of happy home-life that meant so much to Marjorie.
Chapter XVIII
In Boston
The next day the Maynards started for Boston. That is, their destination was Boston, but Mr. and Mrs. Maynard had decided to go by very short stages, and stop several times on the way.
And so they spent one night at New London, two or three more at Newport and Narragansett Pier, and so on to Boston.
It was too early in the season for the summer crowds at the watering places, but though the gay life was absent, they enjoyed their stay at each place.
It was all so novel to the children that the days passed like a swiftly moving panorama, and they went from one scene to another, always sure of experiencing some new pleasure.
* * * * *
One warm and pleasant afternoon the big car swung into Boston, and deposited its occupants at a pleasant hotel on a broad and beautiful avenue.
As Mr. Maynard registered at the office, the clerk handed him a budget of mail. It was not unusual for him to find letters awaiting him at the various hotels, but this time there were also four post-cards for the children.
"Who can have written to us?" exclaimed Marjorie, as she took hers. "I don't know this hand-writing; I'm sure I never saw it before."
She turned the card over, and saw a picture of the State House, one of Boston's principal places of interest. Beneath the picture was written:
"Please come and visit me; I am the place you want to see."
"How funny," said Marjorie. "Who could have sent it? Is it an advertisement, Father?"
"No, Midget, The State House doesn't have to advertise itself! What is yours, King?"
"Mine is a picture of the Public Library, and this has a verse under it, too. It says:
"How do you think you like my looks? Beautiful pictures and wonderful books!"
"These are lots of fun, whoever sent them," said Kitty. "Listen to mine. It's a picture of Faneuil Hall. Under it is written:
"Do not think you have seen all Until you have visited Faneuil Hall!"
"And Rosy Posy has one, too," said Marjorie. "Let sister read it, dear."
"Yes, Middy wead my post-card," and the baby handed it over.
"This is a lovely one," said Marjorie. "See, it's all bright-colored flowers, and it says:
"The Boston Common's bright and gay, With tulips in a brave array."
"Sure enough," said Mrs. Maynard, "the tulips must be in bloom now, and to-morrow we must go to see them."
"Oh, what lovely times we are having!" cried Marjorie. "How long are we going to stay in Boston, Father?"
"Long enough, at any rate, to see all these sights suggested by your post-cards. And I may as well tell you, children, that the cards were sent by Mr. Bryant, a friend of mine in Cambridge; and we are going to visit at his house when we leave here."
"Have we ever seen him?" asked Marjorie.
"Only when you were very small children; not since you can remember. But they are delightful people, and indeed are distant cousins of your mother. I can assure you you'll have a good time at their home."
"We seem to have good times everywhere," said Marjorie, with a happy little sigh of content. "This has been the most beautiful May ever was! And a real Maynard May, because we've all been together all the time!"
"May for the Maynards, and the Maynards for May," sang King, and they all repeated the line, which was one of their favorite mottoes.
"Maytime is a lovely time, anyway, isn't it, Father?" said Marjorie.
"Yes, unless it rains," Mr. Maynard replied, smiling.
"Well, we've had awful little rain since we started," commented Marjorie; "just a little shower now and then, and that's all."
"Maytime is playtime for us this year, sure enough," said her father; "I hope you children realize that these are all Ourdays, and you're piling up enough of them to last for two or three years ahead."
"Oh, they don't count that way, do they?" cried Kitty, in such dismay that her father laughed.
"Don't worry, Kitsie," he said. "I guess we can squeeze out a few Ourdays in the future. Meantime, enjoy your Maytime while you may."
And this the Maynard family proceeded to do. They spent several days in Boston, seeing the sights of the town, and making little excursions to the suburbs and nearby places of interest.
They visited the Public Library, and studied the wonderful paintings there. They went to the State House, and Faneuil Hall, and Mr. Maynard showed the children so many interesting relics, and taught them so much interesting New England history that Marjorie declared he was quite as good a teacher as Miss Hart.
They spent much time in the Public Gardens and on the Common, for the Maynard children dearly loved to be out of doors, and the flowers in their masses of bloom were enchanting.
Indeed, there was so much of interest to see that Marjorie felt almost sorry when the time came to go to Cambridge for their visit at Mr. and Mrs. Bryant's. But her father told her that on their return from Cambridge they could, if they wished, spend a few more days in Boston.
And so, one afternoon, the Maynards drove away from the hotel in their car, and crossed the Charles River to Cambridge.
The Bryants' home was a fine, large estate not far from Harvard College.
"Another college!" exclaimed Marjorie, as they passed the University Buildings. "Can we go through this one, Father, as we did through Yale?"
"Yes," said Mr. Maynard, "and then King can make a choice of which he wants to attend."