"I felt so angry with the brute, Peter; he'd got hold of the poor little thing's arm and was hurting it. The more I think of him the more I feel sure he told us lies this morning, and that Grace spoke the truth."
"I told Aunt Harriet about her," said Peter; "but she thought the Sordellos must be very kind people to have adopted her, and that she must be a naughty little girl. What does your father think?"
"I haven't told him about her yet; at dinner-time we talked mostly of Nellie—she's the apple of Father's eye, you know."
"Oh, I expect so! I wish I had a sister, Tom."
"I dare say you do. It must be awfully dull for you, living alone with your father. What sort of a man is he? Anything like my father, I wonder?"
"He's a good deal older than your father, I should say. No, I don't think he is in the least like Mr. Burford."
"He's very rich, isn't he? I heard Father tell Mother so; he said he was a partner in one of the biggest firms of shipowners in the world. It must be jolly to have a rich father—not that I'd change mine for a millionaire!"
There was a note of affectionate pride in Tom's voice as he spoke; Peter heard it, and his dark, rather grave countenance lit up with an understanding smile.
"I don't suppose either of us would like to change fathers," he replied in his quaint, old-fashioned way.
"Peter," Tom said, after a brief silence, "which would you rather be, rich and blind, or poor and able to see?"