For a moment there was silence and seeming thought, then Dorothea's
head bobbed up and down. "Well, we can't help it, and there's no use
letting things hurt that you can't help! But I don't think mother
knows, Uncle Winthrop, and please don't tell her. She just hates
dirt. Gracious goodness! I'm as full as a frog, and the ice-cream's
got chocolate on it, too!"

In the library some minutes later Dorothea was pouring her uncle's
coffee, and as he took the cup she brought him he bowed
ceremoniously, then put it down to light a cigar. There were times
when he wished Dorothea were his. If she were his-- He took a long
whiff of his cigar and threw the match in the fire.

IV

DOROTHEA AND MR. LAINE

"Pardonnez-moi!" Mademoiselle Antoinette stood at the door. Around
and about her hung blushing apology, and her hands clasped and
unclasped in nervous appeal. The hour had struck and her little
charges must come. Would Monsieur pardon? She was so sorry, it was
sad, but Madame would not like it. "Oh, of course!" Laine waved his
hand. "Good night, Buster!" Channing was tossed in the air. "If
the gobblers get you to-night, don't mind. They're just turkey.
Good night, Miss Wisdom!" Stooping, he kissed Dorothea and unwound
the arms with which she clung to him. "I'm sorry, child, but a
bargain is a bargain, and your mother won't trust us if we don't play
fair-- It's after eight and--" "But I haven't told you what was the
specialest thing I had to--" Dorothea turned to the woman standing
in the door holding her brother's hand; spoke to her rapidly.

"Je vous en prie, Mademoiselle Antoinette, Prenez Channing et ne
m'attendez pas. Je vous rejoindrai dans un instant. J'ai quelque
chose de tres important a dier a mon oncle--deux minutes et j'arrive!"

Antoinette hesitated, then, with a gesture of despair, left the room;
and instantly Dorothea was on a stool at her uncle's feet.

"Did you know?" Elbows on his knees and chin in the palms of her
hands she looked up eagerly in his face. "Did you know my cousin
Claudia was coming to-night?"

"I did."

"Isn't it grand!" Dorothea's hands came together, and in another
minute she was dancing round and round the room, the tip ends of her
skirt held by her fingers. "I'm crazy about my cousin Claudia.
She's my only correspondent, the only one I love to write to, I mean.
She writes things I like to hear about, and Christmas she sends me
something I want.