“My heavens, Nellie, you must not go to such dangerous parts of the river. You might have been killed.”
“Would you have cared very much, Tom?” said Nellie, stopping and holding her hands out; “I want my dear ones to care very much.”
The man’s answer for an instant was to crush the white hands in his and draw the girl close to him.
“Would I care, Helen Standish?” cried he, leading her into the house. “More than I can tell you. Let’s have our supper, and then I’ve got a story to tell you.”
“One of your fairy stories, Tom?” laughed the girl. “I always liked them when I was a little girl, and what a wilful child I was, wasn’t I?”
“You were a sweet child, Nellie,” said Tom, “and now Biddy is calling saying that her biscuits will be cold if we don’t go to supper.”
The meal was hardly over before Nellie broke out: “What makes you people so awfully quiet to-night? Is it your fairy story, Cousin Tom?”
“Yes, it’s the story he’s got to tell you, Nellie,” commented Biddy.
“Tom is one of those chaps who wants to think a long time before he leaps.”
“But I’m ready to leap now, Biddy,” replied Tom appealingly, “and I cannot have more than——”