"Thank you," I said, with a short, dry laugh; "I'm sorely tempted, but it's time I learned that for me discretion is certainly the better part of valor," and I turned away, but not too soon to see that her face grew sad and wistful.
"Heaven bless her kind heart!" I murmured as I wearily climbed the stairs.
Adah brought me up my supper long before the others were through, and I felt a faint remorse that I had feigned sleep in the afternoon, even though my motive had been consideration for her as truly as for myself.
"Miss Adah!" I exclaimed, "you are growing much too unselfish. Why didn't you get your supper first?"
"I've had all I wish. I'm not hungry to-night."
"Truly, you look as if you lived on roses; but you can't thrive long on such unsubstantial diet. It was real good of you to read to those children so long. If I had been an artist, I would have made a sketch of you three. You and that little dark-eyed girl make a lovely contrast."
"I like her," she said simply; "I feel as if I wanted some one to pet.
Can't I read to you while you eat your supper?"
"I'd rather have you talk to me: what do you think of the little girl's father?"
"I haven't thought much about him."
"I wish you could see his house in New York; it's a superb one, and on your favorite Fifth Avenue."