"I want my mamma!" she wailed. Tears ran down her face and Grandma
Padgett wiped them away. But Carrie resisted her hand.
"Go away!" she exclaimed. "You aren't my mamma!"
"Poor little love!" sighed the landlady, who had picked up some
information about the child.
"And you aren't my mamma!" resented Carrie. "I want my mamma to come
to her little Rose."
"Says her name's Rose," said Grandma Padgett, exchanging a flare of
her glasses for a startled look from the landlady.
"She says her name's Rose," repeated the landlady, turning to the
lawyer as a general public who ought to be informed. Robert and
Corinne began to hover between the door and the lounge, vigilant at
both extremes of their beat.
"Rose," repeated the lawyer, bending forward to inspect the child.
"Rose what? Have you any other name, my little girl?"
"I not your little girl," wept their excited patient. "I'm my
mamma's little girl. Go away! you're an ugly papa."
Bobaday and Corinne chuckled at this accusation. Aunt Corinne could
not bring herself to regard the lawyer as an ally. If he wished to
play a proper part he should have gone out and driven the doorkeeper
and all the rest of those show-people from Greenfield.
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