Mrs. Brenton looked relieved to see Caroline. In her lap sat a very tired, a very cross, and much tumbled, lace-trimmed small person.
Caroline held out her arms.
"Come along, sweetheart, and Caroline will tell you a lovely story all to yourself."
"Shall I carry her?" Haverford asked.
Caroline shook her head.
"Oh no; she isn't a bit heavy!"
She closed her arms round her little charge. Baby rested her flushed cheek against the girl's pale one, and her tiny arms were tightly pressed round Caroline's neck.
As Haverford opened the door for her, Caroline gave him a bright little nod as she passed out.
"I think I shall say 'good night'" she said, "for I shall not come down again this evening. Baby wants to say 'good night' too, darling, don't you?"
Rupert Haverford stooped, and the child turned and kissed him fondly. His head was very close to Caroline; she noticed how crisply his brown hair curled just at the sides, and what fine brows he had. Baby refused to let him go—refused to be taken from Caroline's arms, and so, as the girl walked slowly up the stairs, Rupert Haverford followed close behind. He had hold of the child's small fingers over Caroline's shoulder; every now and then she felt the warm touch of his hand and wrist rest on her shoulder.