"Everything that concerns her, I mean—because I might be of help when she least expected it. And so Mr. Sidney has told her all about it to-night?"
"I never said so," cried the embarrassed old gentleman.
"Well, I only guess at it," answered Mattie; "I shall soon come to the rights of it, if I keep a good look out."
She caught up her tray again and marched to the door to ponder anew. Mr. Hinchford writhed on his chair—would this loquacious diminutive help never go down-stairs and leave him in peace? She asked no more questions, however.
"And to think that what I fancied would happen is all coming round like a story-book, just as I hoped it would be for her sake—for his sake—years and years ago! How nicely things come round, sir, don't they?"
"Don't they!" he re-echoed.
Mattie departed, and the old gentleman blew at invisibility in the air once more.
"How that girl does talk!—it is her one fault—loquacity. If she can only find a listener, she's happy. And yet, when I come to consider it, that girl's always happy—for she's thankful and content. And things are coming nicely round, she says—well, I hope so!"