"So that's the youngster we're going to adopt, is it?" Mr. Pryor
said; then he looked at Helena through his curling brown lashes, with
open amusement. Her eyes were full of tears.

"It has been--so long," she said faintly.

"I've been very busy," he explained.

She nodded and smiled. "Anyhow, you are here now. But, oh, Maggie has
a sore throat. I don't know what we're going to have for dinner. Oh,
how glad I am you're here!" Her face was glowing, but her chin
trembled.

"Why, this is very flattering, I'm sure; I thought you were so taken
up with your orphan that you wouldn't care whether I came or not."

"You know that isn't true," she said gayly, brushing her cheek against
his arm; "but isn't he a dear little fellow?--though I'm sorry his
hair isn't curly." Then her face changed. "What did he mean about
Alice being nineteen?"

"Oh, Alice? Why, he asked me in the stage if I had any children, and I
put Alice's age as a sum in mental arithmetic for him. And he asked me
if my name was Goliath."

But she had forgotten David. "Lloyd! To think you are here!"

"Yes, I'm here, and a hamper is here, too. I hope the stage will bring
it up pretty soon. I don't believe I could stand an Old Chester bill
of fare. It's queer about women; they don't care what they eat. I
don't believe you've got anything on hand but bread and jam and tea?"