"I'm here, I'm coming," responded Letty. As she slid hurriedly from her father's knees, she paused long enough to whisper in his ear, "Father, what shall I tell mother when she asks me?"
"Tell her, Letty, that I cannot do it because it would not be fair."
"Because it would not be fair," repeated the child obediently as she reached for Caroline's hand. "Miss Meade is going to have supper with me, father. We are going to play that it is a party and let all the dolls come, and she will have bread and milk just as I do."
"Will she?" said Blackburn, with a smile. "Then I'd think she'd be hungry before bed-time."
Though he spoke pleasantly, Caroline was aware that his thoughts had wandered from them, and that he was as indifferent to her presence as he was to the faint lemon-coloured light streaming in at the window. It occurred to her suddenly that he had never really looked at her, and that if they were to meet by accident in the road he would not recognize her. She had never seen any one with so impersonal a manner—so encased and armoured in reserve—and she began to wonder what he was like under that impenetrable surface? "I should like to hear him speak," she thought, "to know what he thinks and feels about the things he cares for—about politics and public questions." He stood up as she rose, and for a minute before Letty drew her from the room, he smiled down on the child. "If I were Miss Meade, I'd demand more than bread and milk at your party, Letty." Then he turned away, and sat down again at his writing table.
An hour or two later, when Letty's supper was over, Angelica came in to say good-night before she went out to dinner. She was wearing an evening wrap of turquoise velvet and ermine, and a band of diamonds encircled the golden wings on her temples. Her eyes shone like stars, and there was a misty brightness in her face that made her loveliness almost unearthly. The fatigue of the afternoon had vanished, and she looked as young and fresh as a girl.
"I hope you are comfortable, Miss Meade," she said, with the manner of considerate gentleness which had won Caroline from the first. "I told Fanny to move you into the little room next to Letty's."
"Yes, I am quite comfortable. I like to sleep where she can call me."
The child was undressing, and as her mother bent over her, she put up her bare little arms to embrace her. "You smell so sweet, mother, just like lilacs."
"Do I, darling? There, don't hug me so tight or you'll rumple my hair. Did you ask your father about Ridley?"