What was there about this little girl that went so to his heart?
"Uncle Winthrop," she began presently, while a soft pink flush crept up to the edge of her hair, "I heard you and Uncle Leverett talking about some money the first night you were over—wasn't it my money?"
"Yes, I think so," with a little dryness in his tone. What made her think about money just now, and with that almost ethereal face!
"Is it any that I could have—just a little of it?" hesitatingly.
"Why? Haven't you all the things you want?"
"I? Oh, yes. I shouldn't know what to wish for unless it was someone to talk French with," and there was a sweet sort of wistfulness in her tone.
"I think I can supply that want. Why we might have been talking French half the afternoon. Do you want some French books? Is that it?"
"No, sir." There was a lingering inflection in her tone that missed satisfaction.
"Are you not happy at Cousin Leverett's?"
"Happy? Oh, yes." She glanced up in a little surprise. "But the money would be to make someone else happy."