"Miss Anderson is a young lady of sixteen, I believe, Maurice."
"Lettice Anderson is my little girl, and I am her old uncle, or father, if she will have me, Theodosia." To Lettice, he added softly—"For poor Cecilia's sake! Her mother was very dear to me."
Lettice clung fast to the kind brown hand. How could she hold back? The doctor put her into an easy-chair, and sat down by her, watching the working of the pale face.
"Not grown-up yet, surely?"
"O no, I'm only a little girl still."
"You and I are going to be friends, I see."
Theodosia's brows drew together. She did not wish Dr. Bryant to like Lettice.
"Have another cup of tea?" asked the unconscious doctor.
Lettice said "Yes:" and then was sorry, as she caught the covert flash of Theodosia's eyes.
"I have no more in the teapot."