“But will Lady be willing to share all these things with a perfect stranger like Annie Moss?” inquired Harcourt, solely for the purpose of drawing the child out to talk of his loved and lost Roma.
But Owlet looked at him in solemn disapprobation. Why should he, or any one, doubt that Lady would do everything that was kind to everybody, her eyes seemed to ask. Then she answered:
“Of course she will! And, of course, Miss Annie will be no stranger after I have told Lady all about her; and Lady will be sure to invite her to come to Goblin Hall. You’ll see. Oh! I think I will ask Lady to invite you to stay when you take me home to her. Wouldn’t you like to stay?” inquired Owlet, with sudden inspiration.
“Lady is very good to everybody, then?” said the young man, evading the child’s question.
“You bet! Why, didn’t I tell you she was possessed of common sense? But I don’t believe you listen to one word I say!” Owlet exclaimed in a tone of pique.
“Oh, yes, I do, indeed. To every word you speak about Lady.”
“No, you don’t. You never answered me when I asked you if you wouldn’t like to stay at Lady’s house when you take me home there.”
“I beg your pardon, mistress. I will answer now. I should, very much, if I could, my dear.”
“Well, you can, if you want to. I will tell Lady how good you have been to me, and she will have you stay, I know. And, oh! I think she will like you very much—I do, indeed. And, oh! I say, Mr. William!”
“What now, little girl?”