‘Oh, yes, you could. Now do just as I tell you, Alice. When you’ve eaten, we’ll talk again.’
Quietly and firmly he disengaged her arm from his, and putting her into her chair again, he presently returned, bringing a tray for her. Then, gently insisting, he made her eat and drink.
‘Ought I to see mother?’ she asked at length.
‘Just wish her good-night when you go upstairs. I’m going to pack you off to bed in half an hour.’
‘But she won’t talk and cry—and—and not understand?’ asked Alice.
‘No, she shan’t talk and cry. I’ll take care of that. I’ll act policeman. But I can’t promise you that she’ll understand. I should think nothing more unlikely.’
Alice had a faint smile for this.
‘I never knew you before to-night, father,’ she said.
‘No, but we must try to be friends now.’
Alice moved aside the table which carried her tray. ‘You never liked him,’ she said. ‘How is it you can help me like this? How can you understand, if you didn’t like him?’