d not
been wicked, and yet she could not at first hit upon the right term.
Just as it flashed upon her to say "impetuous," and not to care a fig if
Donald _did_ secretly laugh at her using so grand an expression, Mr.
George said, gently, but with much seriousness:

"You need not reproach yourself, my child. I can see very clearly just
what you wish to say. Don and I can rough it together, but you, poor
darling," stroking her hair softly, "need just what we cannot give
you,--a woman's, a mother's tenderness."

"Oh, yes, you do! Yes, you do, Uncle!" cried Dorothy, in sudden
generosity.

"And it is only natural, my little maid, that you should long--as Donald
must, too--to hear more of the mother whom I scarcely knew, whom, in
fact, I saw only a few times. Wolcott, I should say, your Papa, and she
sailed for Europe soon after their marriage, and from that day we
never--"

He checked himself, and Dorry took advantage of the pause to say,
timidly:

"But it wasn't so with Aunt Kate. You knew _her_, Uncle, all her life.
Wasn't she sweet, and lovely, and--"

"Yes, yes! Sweet, lovely, everything that was noble and good, dear. You
cannot love her too well."

"And Papa," spoke up Donald, sturdily, "he was perfect. You've often
told us so,--a true, upright, Christian gentleman." The boy knew this
phrase by heart. He had so often heard his uncle use it, in speaking of
the lost brother, that it seemed almost like a part of his father's
name. "And Mamma we _know_ was good, Dorry. Liddy says every one liked
her ever so much. Uncle George says so too. Only, how can he talk to us
about our mother if he hardly knew her? She didn't ever live in this
house. She lived in New York; and that made a great difference--don't
you see?"

"Yes," admitted Dorry, only half satisfied; "but you _would_ have known
her, Uncle George,--yes, known Mamma, and Aunty, and our Uncle Robertson
[they had never learned to call that uncle by his first name]--we would
have known them all--no, not all, not poor dear Papa, because he never
lived to set sail from England, but all the rest, even our dear little
cousin, Delia,--oh, wouldn't she be sweet, if we had her now to love and
take care of! We should all have known each other ever so well--of
course we should--if the ship had landed safe."

"Yes, my darlings, if the ship had not gone down, all would have been
very, very different. There would have been a happy household indeed. We
should have had more