“Little girl wants to speak to you, father.”
“Little girl! What little girl? What’s her name?”
“She didn’t tell me.”
“Ask her then, my boy.”
Jack’s head disappeared, but reappeared almost directly, and he said:
“Amy Coleson.”
“Coleson!” repeated his father with a start of surprise. “Tell her to come in here.”
And the next instant Jack ushered in the visitor, who looked at the floor and seemed dazzled by the lamp-light which showed her to be a pretty child with soft yellow hair and fair white skin, but poorly or rather miserably clad in a black frock worn through at the elbows and in many a place beside. She was so thin in the face, too, that it was quite painful to look at her.
Mr. Kayll took her by the hand, drew her to him, and kissed her.
“Well, this is a surprise!” he said. “Little Amy Coleson! Grown exactly like her mother, too, only thinner. Jack, bring her a chair. Mother, isn’t she like what Amy used to be?”