King," said Helena breathlessly, "I'm afraid--really, I'm not
prepared for company; and--"
"Oh," said William, cheerfully, "don't bother about that. Mrs. King is
going to bring up one or two little things, and I believe Mrs. Barkley
has some ideas on the subject. Well, I must be going along. I hope you
won't be sorry to see us? The fact is, you are too lonely up here with
only David to keep you busy, though I must say, if he fires off
questions like this one, I should think you would be pretty well
occupied!"
When he had gone, Helena Richie sat looking blankly at David. "What on
earth shall I do!" she said aloud.
"Did God make Sarah?" David demanded.
"Yes, dear, yes!"
"Did He make me, and the Queen, and my rabbits?"
"Why, of course. Oh, David, you do ask so many questions!"
"Everything has to be made," he ruminated.
She agreed, absently. David put his spoon down, deeply interested.
"Who made God?--another god, higher up?"
"I think," she said, "that I'll send word I have a headache!"
David sighed, and gave up theological research, "Dr. King didn't look
at my scar, but I made Theophilus Bell pay me a penny to show it to
him. Mrs. Richie, when I am a man, I'm _never_ going to wash behind my
ears. I tell Sarah so every morning, I'm going to see my rabbits, now.
Good-by."
He slipped down from his chair and left her to her perplexity--as if
she had not perplexity enough without this! For the last few days she
had been worried almost to death about Mr.
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