Una always felt very close to her mother there—as if she were kneeling at her feet with head in her lap. She went there once in a long while when life was TOO hard.
“Mother,” she whispered to the gray silk gown, “I will never forget you, mother, and I’ll ALWAYS love you best. But I have to do it, mother, because father is so very unhappy. I know you wouldn’t want him to be unhappy. And I will be very good to her, mother, and try to love her, even if she is like Mary Vance said stepmothers always were.”
Una carried some fine, spiritual strength away from her secret shrine. She slept peacefully that night with the tear stains still glistening on her sweet, serious, little face.