“Do you lodge here, or only come by the day?”
“I lodge here, ma’am.”
“Well, Titus, if you should ever have a holiday, and would like to enjoy it in the country, you just tell Mr. Merritt—you know him, and you know where he lives—and he will send you to me.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. That would be too good!” exclaimed the lad, breaking into a broad grin.
“Here we are on the landing. Good-by, now, Titus,” said Roma, shaking hands with him as they left the elevator.
“Good-by, Titus. Mind, when your holidays come, you are to ask Lawyer Merritt to send you down to Goblin Hall. He’ll do anything for our lady here. I reckon he will marry her some day, and maybe I’ll marry you, Titus, when we grow up,” said Owlet, as she took Roma’s hand and passed into the dining-room.
Roma sometimes felt a little shocked at the child’s freedom, and even rudeness, of speech, but she could not yet find it in her heart to rebuke the newly bereaved orphan. She would defer all training until they should reach Goblin Hall, when she would begin it in the spirit of love.
“Is there any one else you would like to invite to Goblin Hall, ma’am?” she inquired, with sly humor, as she led Owlet into the dining-room and they sat down at one of the tables.
“Of course not,” replied the child, looking at the questioner in grave wonder. “There are Mr. Merritt, Lucy, Tom and Titus. They are enough. We can’t have all the world at Goblin Hall! ‘There is reason in roasting eggs.’”
“I stand corrected,” said Roma.