"Mother, can't we have supper quite soon, or can't I? The concert begins at half-past seven and we want to be there early and get a good seat. Dr. Hoffman is coming at half-past six."
Father came in. Mrs. Underhill jumped up and brought in the tea. Jim came whistling down the area steps. They did not need to wait for John and Benny Frank.
Hanny looked at her sister quite as if she were a new person, with some solemn distinction. How had she come to love Dr. Hoffman?
She had not settled it when she went to bed alone. There was a dreary feeling now of years and years without Margaret.
That was Friday, and the following Sunday Dr. Hoffman marched into the parlor with a vital at-home step. Margaret was up-stairs. Hanny sat in her little rocker reading her Sunday-school book. He smiled and came over to her, took away her book, and clasping both hands drew her up, seated himself, and her on his knee before she could make any resistance.
"Hanny," he began, "do you know you are going to be my little sister? I can't remember when I had a little sister, mine always seemed big to me. And I am very glad to have you. You are such a sweet, dear little girl. Won't you give me a word of welcome?"
Something in his voice touched her.
"I wasn't glad on Friday," she said slowly. "I don't want Margaret to go away——"
"Then you will have to take me in here."
"There's Stephen's room," she suggested naïvely.