"My husband died two years ago," went on Mrs. Temple. "He was very good to me, and he idolized our little daughter." Her eyes dropped before the doctor's earnest gaze, but they had already told that which the doctor had for so many years longed to know, whether in marrying big, wealthy, dissipated Captain Temple, Elinor Arsquith had pleased merely herself, or whether to spare her father's good name she had sacrificed her girlhood.
He drew in his breath quickly, and for a moment no word was spoken between them.
"And your little girl?" asked the doctor, breaking the silence.
"She is with me here. I lost two little ones in Texas, and Elinor is all I have left. I felt that for her sake I must seek a different climate, and that is why I am here."
At that moment the curtains before the door parted, and a small figure appeared. A solemn-faced little midget, about six years old, clasping to her breast a battered doll, stood before them.
"Come in, dear, and speak to the doctor," Mrs. Temple said, glad of an interruption to a conversation which was becoming embarrassing.
The little one advanced slowly, till she stood by the doctor's side. "Must I put out my tongue?" she asked.
The doctor smiled. "No, I think I wouldn't. It's pretty cold for even a tongue to be out to-day."
The child laughed merrily. "I wanted to go and buy mamma a little bunch of vi'lets, but she said I would freeze my nose off, and I wouldn't be pretty without any nose, would I?" Then, glancing down at her dilapidated, noseless doll, she looked a little abashed. "Excuse me, Lily," she said gravely; "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I love you just as much as if you had as big a nose as the doctor's. I didn't have any money in my bank, anyhow," she continued, "and mamma could not spare any five centses. You know we aren't rich any more. I 'spect the flowers are frozen up, anyway."