'"
"Oh yes, and ours," "me too," "so will I," and all the children joined in
promising eternal friendship with Dora. But the mother had taken her
husband's hand and had drawn him away down the shady walk.
"All right, I agree to it all," said Mr. Birkenfeld over and over again,
as his wife talked eagerly, while they walked back and forth. Presently
Mrs. Birkenfeld left him and crossed over to the next house. She asked for
Mrs. Ehrenreich, and now as they sat together by the window, she told Aunt
Ninette in words that came from her heart, with what delight she had
discovered that Dora was the daughter of her earliest and dearest friend;
that friend from whom she had been so long separated, but whose memory was
still green in her heart. She wanted to learn all that could be told of
her friend's life and death, but Aunt Ninette had little to tell. She had
never known Dora's mother; her brother had spent several years in America
where he had married, and his wife had died in Hamburg shortly after
Dora's birth.
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