“Come here, my dear! A fine little boy!”
“As fine a child as ever I saw!” said Mr. Morton, heartily, as he took Sidney on his lap, and stroked down his golden hair.
This displeased Mrs. Roger Morton, but she sat herself down, and said it was “very warm.”
“Now go to that lady, my dear,” said Mr. Morton. “Is she not a very nice lady?—don’t you think you shall like her very much?”
Sidney, the best-mannered child in the world, went boldly up to Mrs. Morton, as he was bid. Mrs. Morton was embarrassed. Some folks are so with other folk’s children: a child either removes all constraint from a party, or it increases the constraint tenfold. Mrs. Morton, however, forced a smile, and said, “I have a little boy at home about your age.”
“Have you?” exclaimed Catherine, eagerly; and as if that confession made them friends at once, she drew a chair close to her sister-in-law’s,—“My brother has told you all?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And I shall stay here—in the town somewhere—and see him sometimes?”
Mrs. Roger Morton glanced at her husband—her husband glanced at the door—and Catherine’s quick eye turned from one to the other.
“Mr. Morton will explain, ma’ am,” said the wife.