"Oh, yes, Arthur!" said Netta, brightening. "What sort? And shall we bring them back to you?"
"Any sort you like for yourselves," said he, fumbling for the penny. "And look here—" glancing under their hats—"be good girls to Nellie when you come home, won't you? 'Cause it's so hot, and mamma did say so."
"All right," said Netta, "we will." And away they bounded.
While Arthur felt one of those sudden bits of intense happiness which will come some day in fulness when the Lord says, "Well done, good and faithful servant."
But with the thought of having done the least thing to please Him came a sudden pang that, a minute ago, perhaps he had displeased Him in speaking hastily to Ada, and he turned again into the dining room.
Ada's "reflections" which Arthur had alluded to were not pleasant ones. A heavy cloud brooded over her, and she got up directly she saw him, and walked past him without speaking.
"I'm sorry if I vexed you," said Arthur, bolting into the subject for fear of not getting it said.
"It does not matter, thank you," she answered proudly, and shut the door on him without looking up.
Arthur felt angry in his turn; but he soon remembered that, however much Ada was in fault, he had said something which had annoyed her, and he determined to be as kind as possible when next they met, if he could. He soon sought for Nellie, and found her in the nursery sitting by little Tom, with her work in her hand.
Tom raised his eyes pleased. "Are you come, Arthur; I should like to build some bricks."