"
David slid sidewise on to the slippery wooden settee. He had nothing
to say; again he felt that bleak sinking right under his little
breast-bone; but it stopped in the excitement of seeing Mrs. Richie's
brother coming into the waiting-room! There was a young lady at his
side, and he piloted her across the big, bare room, to the very settee
upon which David was swinging his small legs.
"I must see about the checks, dear," he said, and hurried off without
a glance at the little boy who was guarding Dr. Lavendar's valise.
The sun pouring through the high, dusty window, shone into David's
eyes. He wrinkled his nose and squinted up at the young lady from
under the visor of his blue cap. She smiled down at him, pleasantly,
and then opened a book; upon which David said bravely, "You're
nineteen. I'm seven, going on eight."
"What!" said the young lady; she put her book down, and laughed. "How
do you know I am nineteen, little boy?"
"Mrs. Richie's brother said so."
She looked at him with amused perplexity. "And who is Mrs. Richie's
brother?"
David pointed shyly at the vanishing figure at the end of the waiting-
room.
"Why, no, dear, that's my father."
"_I_ know," said David; "he's Mr. Pryor, Mrs. Richie's brother. He
comes and stays at our house."
"Stays at your house? What on earth are you talking about, you funny
little boy! Where is your house?"
"O' Chester," said David.
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