"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?"
"I care a great deal!" she assured him laughing, and then looked
worried. "Yes, I really have been living on bread and jam." She was
hanging on his arm, and once she kissed his hand. "Will you go
upstairs? And I'll see what we can do about food. That dreadful
Maggie! She's sick in bed."
Mr. Pryor looked annoyed. "Can't she get us something to eat? Ask her,
Nelly; I don't believe it will hurt her. Here; give her that," and he
took a crumpled bill out of his waistcoat pocket.
She did not take the money, but her eyes shone.
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