"Mrs. Colter, this is Miss Crosby's fy-an-see," introduced Tottie.
"And, Barbara, this is goin' to be your Uncle Felix."
Hull sat, and Barbara came to him, putting out a shy hand. "Ah! So this is the little niece!" he exclaimed. "Well! Well!—When did you come down, Mrs. Colter?"
"Left Poughkeepsie at six-thirty this mornin'. And now I must be runnin' along—to see if I can find that pickle fork."
Barbara had been studying the newcomer more frankly. Emboldened by his smile, she brought forward the nosegay. "See what I've got for Aunt Clare," she whispered.
Hull patted the crumpled blossoms. "You're a thoughtful little body," he declared. And as Mrs. Colter started out, "Could I trouble you, I wonder?" He got up. "I mean to say, will you buy something for the little niece?"
"Oh, ain't that nice of him!" cried Mrs. Colter, appealing to Tottie.
Hull was going into a pocket to cover his confusion at being praised.
"A—a pinafore, for instance," he suggested, "or a—a——"
"A coat," pronounced Tottie. "Look at that one! It's fierce!"
With the grave air of a little old lady, Barbara interposed. "I need shoes worse," she declared. "See." She put out a foot.
"Yes, shoes," agreed Hull. He pressed a bill into Mrs. Colter's hand. There were tears in her mild eyes. She did not trust herself to speak, but nodded, smiling, and hurried away. He sat again, and drew the child to him.