"Will you have your tea now? Charon and I had our supper long ago."
"No, child, I only want to rest."
Beulah fancied he spoke impatiently. Had she been too officious in welcoming him to his own home? She bit her lip with proud vexation, and, taking her geometry, left him. As she reached the door the doctor called to her.
"Beulah, you need not go away. This is a better fire than the one in your own room." But she was wounded, and did not choose to stay.
"I can study better in my own room. Good-night, sir."
"Why, child, this is Saturday night. No lessons until Monday."
She was not particularly mollified by the reiteration of the word "child," and answered coldly:
"There are hard lessons for every day we live."
"Well, be good enough to hand me the letters that have arrived during my absence."
She emptied the letter receiver, and placed several communications in his hand. He pointed to a chair near the fire, and said quietly: