“Yes, Mr. William; but suppose Lady won’t have her?”
“I cannot suppose anything of the sort in the case of this lady and child; but even in the improbable event you suggest I should be able to place the little one in good hands,” said Harcourt, thinking of the benevolent and prosperous Wynthrops, as he turned to go.
“Mr. William!” said Annie, calling him back.
“Well, Annie?”
“You’ll have no call to get anything or to worry over the fire, just as you are going on a long journey. I will have breakfast ready by the time you come back from Adler’s.”
“Oh, Annie!” he said, with a deprecating sigh, “how you do invite me to impose on you.”
“Now, Mr. William, you know I’m a lone widow, growing old, without even an ‘only son of his mother’ to comfort me, unless it’s you, and I feel like a mother to you.”
“Since ever I have known you, Annie, you have been like—a dear, elder sister; but lately you have done too much for me.”
“No! no! Mr. William. And as for this, why, it’s nothing. Besides, you wouldn’t have time to go to Adler’s and come back and cook your breakfast and catch your train.”
“No, indeed, I should not, Annie; so now I must thank you and hurry away.”