And as she sat under Theodosia's critical gaze, the thought came again—"I'm not wanted here. But—'He cares for me.'"
"What are you dreaming about?" asked Theodosia abruptly, noting a transient smile.
Lettice could not answer the question, and she made no attempt to evade it.
"Have you been unpacking all this time?"
"She hasn't unpacked one single thing," cried Keith.
"She's been laying down, sound asleep."
"Lying down, you mean; not laying."
"And she's going to play games with me, Mamsie. Lots of games, and run races. And I'm going to love her, ever so much, 'cause I think she's pretty."
Theodosia's face darkened. The last thing she desired was that Keith should care for Lettice. Her own love for the child was of a jealous and exacting nature.
"Your friends at the Farm seem to have been in great hurry to get rid of you," she remarked coldly.