“Now go to your master, good dog,” she cried, kissing him once more, and at the word “master” Joby started to the door and looked back, when Maude followed and opened it. The dog trotted downstairs and settled himself under the porter’s chair in the hall till the door was opened. Then he trotted off to his master’s chambers.
Meanwhile, as soon as she had despatched her messenger, Maude seated herself upon the carpet by her father, and laid her cheek against his hand.
He opened his eyes directly, saw who it was, and laid his other hand upon her head.
“Ah, Maude, my pet,” he said. “I have, been sitting here with my eyes closed.”
“Yes, papa. Did you hear what Sir Grantley Wilters said?”
“No, my child. Has—has—he been here?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Then I suppose I must have been quite asleep.”
“Yes, papa—for quite an hour.—Papa, dear.”
“Yes, my love.”