Mr. Peck's trousers were short and badly kneed, and his long coat hung
formlessly from his shoulders; she involuntarily took a patronising tone
toward him which was not habitual with her.

"Thank you," he said, with the dry, serious voice which seemed the fit
vocal expression of his presence; "I have been afraid that it seemed like
an intrusion to you."

"Oh, not the least," retorted Annie. "You were very welcome. I hope you're
comfortably placed where you are now?"

"Quite so," said the minister.

"I'd heard so much of your little girl from Mrs. Bolton, and her attachment
to the house, that I ventured to send for her to-day. But I believe I gave
her rather a bad quarter of an hour, and that she liked the place better
under Mrs. Bolton's _régime_."

She expected some deprecatory expression of gratitude from him, which would
relieve her of the lingering shame she felt for having managed so badly,
but he made none.

"It was my fault. I'm not used to children, and I hadn't taken the
precaution to ask her name--"

"Her name is Idella," said the minister.

Annie thought it very ugly, but, with the intention of saying something
kind, she said, "What a quaint name!"

"It was her mother's choice," returned the minister. "Her own name was
Ella, and my mother's name was Ida; she combined the two."