"You are not half as rapid as Jack," she said, laughingly; and then she told him of the practice she had had writing nursery rhymes.
He seemed so interested that she went on to tell him more about the child, and his great desire to be in the office with her.
"I told him I would ask you," she said, finally; "but that it was a very unusual thing to do, and that I doubted very much if any business firm would allow it."
He saw how hard it had been for her to prefer such a request, and smiled reassuringly.
"It would be a very small thing for me to do for Richard Hallam's boy," he said. "Tell the little fellow to come, and welcome. He need not be in any one's way. We have three rooms in this suite, and you will occupy the one at the far end."
It was hard for Bethany to keep back the tears.
"I can never thank you enough, Mr. Edmunds," she said. "The legacy papa thought he had secured to us was swept away, but he has left us one thing that more than compensates—the heritage of his friendships. I have been finding out lately what a great thing it is to be rich in friends."
Bethany went home jubilant. "Now if my twin tenants turn out to be half as nice," she thought, "this will be a very satisfactory day."
She tried to picture them, as she walked rapidly on, wondering whether they would be prim and dignified, or nervous and fussy. Mrs. Marion had said they were fine housekeepers. That might mean they were exacting and hard to please.
"What's the use of borrowing trouble?" she concluded, finally. "I'll take Uncle Doctor's advice, and not try to count to-morrow's milestones."