"You'd think she was sometimes to look at her," replied Blackburn, smiling.
"Well, if mother is an angel, why aren't you one? I asked Mrs. Aylett that, but she didn't tell me."
"You could scarcely blame her," laughed Blackburn. "It is a hard question."
"I asked Miss Meade, too, but she didn't tell me either."
"Now, I should have thought better of Miss Meade." As Blackburn lifted his face, it looked young and boyish. "Is it possible that she is capable of an evasion?"
"What does that word mean, father?"
"It means everything, my daughter, that Miss Meade is not."
"You oughtn't to tease the child, David," said Mrs. Timberlake. "She is so easily excited."
Caroline and the old lady had both unfolded their knitting; and the clicking of their needles made a cheerful undercurrent to the conversation. The room looked homelike and pleasant in the firelight, and leaning back in his chair, Blackburn gazed with half-closed eyes at the two women and the child outlined against the shimmering glow of the flames.
"You are like the Fates," he said presently after a silence in which Letty sank drowsily against him. "Do you never put down your knitting?"