"Perhaps," she said. "He used to be very fond of you."
After that I was always watching for the little boy. Every morning when I got up I looked out of the window to see if he were not coming in our gate. And the last thing before I went to bed, I looked out carefully again. I thought that I should know him by his hair, and I felt how lovely it would be if he would only come at Christmas time. Christmas was not going to be so nice that year as usual. I did not think that I should get anything. There were lots of presents in the house for other children, even my little brother and sister, but somehow there did not seem to be any for Rhoda!
"Father," I said, one morning, "there's a very pretty book in your top drawer. A child's book. I wonder whose it is?"
He was quite busy reading his paper, but he answered me at once.
"That's for a little friend of mine," he declared. "It's a secret."
"Oh! Is she a good girl, father?"
He glanced at me and laughed.
"Sometimes she's awfully good," he answered.