"Won't you come and visit me, sir, in my little room? I get lonely, you know, and have a lot of space. I'm so glad to have seen you, Miss Barton."
"Mr. Burke is going to be one of my very good friends, Mary. He's coming around to see us when I get back home. Won't that be pleasant?"
Mary looked at Bobbie's honest, mobile face, and saw the splendid manliness which radiated from his earnest, friendly eyes. Perhaps she saw just a trifle more in those eyes; whatever it was, it was not displeasing.
She dropped her own gaze, and softly said:
"Yes, father. He will be very welcome, if he is your friend."
On her bosom was a red rose which the florist had given her when she purchased the flowers for her father. Sometimes even florists are human, you know.
"Good afternoon; I'll see you later," said Bobbie, cheerily.
"You haven't any flowers, Mr. Burke. May I give you this little one?" asked Mary, as she unpinned the rose.
Burke flushed. He smiled, bashfully, and old Barton beamed.
"Thank you," said Bobbie, and the attendant wheeled him on into his own room.