all son
Jim peeking around his door. He had heard--he could not help it--the
conversation earlier in the day between Content and his mother. He had
also heard other things. He now felt entirely justified in listening,
although he had a good code of honor. He considered himself in a way
responsible, knowing what he knew, for the peace of mind of his parents.
Therefore he listened, peeking around the doorway of his dark room.

The electric light flashed out from Content's room, and the little
interior was revealed. It was charmingly pretty. Sally had done her best
to make this not altogether welcome little stranger's room attractive.
There were garlands of rosebuds swung from the top of the white
satin-papered walls. There were dainty toilet things, a little
dressing-table decked with ivory, a case of books, chairs cushioned with
rosebud chintz, windows curtained with the same.

In the little white bed, with a rose-sprinkled coverlid over her, lay
Content. She was not asleep. Directly, when the light flashed out, she
looked at the rector and his wife with her clear blue eyes. Her fair
hair, braided neatly and tied with pink ribbons, lay in two tails on
either side of her small, certainly very good face. Her forehead was
beautiful, very white and full, giving her an expression of candor which
was even noble. Content, little lonely girl among strangers in a strange
place, mutely beseeching love and pity, from her whole attitude toward
life and the world, looked up at Edward Patterson and Sally, and the
rector realized that his determination was giving way. He began to
believe in imagination, even to the extent of a sister Solly. He had
never had a daughter, and sometimes the thought of one had made his
heart tender. His voice was very kind when he spoke.

"Well, little girl," he said, "what is this I hear?"

Sally stared at her husband and stifled a chuckle.

As for Content, she looked at the rector and said nothing. It was
obvious that she did not know what he had heard. The rector explained.

"My dear little girl," he said, "your aunt Sally"--they had agreed upon
the relationship of uncle and aunt to Content--"tells me that you have
been telling her about your--big sister Solly." The rector half gasped
as he said Solly. He seemed to himself to be on the driveling verge of
idiocy before the pronunciation of that absurdly inane name.

Content's responding voice came from the pink-and-white nest in which she
was snugg