Fledra Cronk’s school days lengthened slowly into weeks.  She was making rapid strides in English, and Miss Shellington’s patience went far toward keeping her mind concentrated upon her work.  At first some of the girls at the school were inclined to smile at her endeavors; but her sad face and questioning eyes drew many of them into firm friends.  Especially did she cling to Mildred Vandecar, and raised in the golden-haired daughter of the governor an idol at whose shrine she worshiped.

One Saturday morning in the latter part of March, Mildred Vandecar persuaded her mother to allow her to go, accompanied by Katherine, to the Shellington home.  They found Ann reading aloud to the twins, Flukey resting on the divan.  Mildred was presented to him, and in the hour that followed the sick boy became her devoted subject.

The three young people listened eagerly to the story, and after it was finished Ann entered into conversation with Katherine.

Suddenly she heard Flukey exclaim, in answer to some question put by Mildred: 

“My sister and me ain’t got no mother!”

Miss Shellington colored and partly rose; but she had no chance to speak, for Mildred was saying: 

“Oh, dear! how you must miss her!  Is she dead?  And haven’t you any father, either?”

“Yep,” said Flukey; “but he ain’t no good.  He hates us, he does, and worse than that, he’s a thief!”

Mildred drew back with a shocked cry.  Ann was up instantly; while Fledra got to her feet with effort.  She remembered how carefully Ann had instructed her never to mention Lon Cronk or any of the episodes in their early days at Ithaca; but Flukey had never been thus warned.

“Mildred, dear,” Ann said anxiously, “Floyd and Fledra were unfortunate in losing their mother, and more unfortunate in having a father who doesn’t care for them as your father does for you.”  She passed an arm about Fledra and continued, “It would be better if we were not to talk of family troubles any more, Floyd....  Fledra, won’t you ask Mildred to play something for you?”

The rest of Mildred’s stay was so strained that Miss Shellington breathed a sigh of relief when Katherine suggested going.  For a few seconds neither Ann nor Fledra spoke after the closing of the door.  It was the latter who finally broke the silence.

“Flukey hadn’t ought to have said anything about Pappy Lon; but he didn’t know—­he thought everybody knew about us....  Are ye going to send us away now?”

The girl’s anxiety and worried look caused Ann to reassure her quickly.

* * * * *

In describing the events of the afternoon to her mother, Mildred wept bitterly.  When a grave look spread over Mrs. Vandecar’s face, Katherine interposed: 

“Aunty, while those children undoubtedly had bad parents, they will really amount to something, I’m sure.”

It was not until she was alone with Katherine that Mrs. Vandecar opened the subject.