She came to him, with her light walk, a dainty lank child, wrought of the finest fibre.
Me held out his two hands, and she put a slender little hand in each.
“Betty,” he asked, “who have you heard say these things?”
“No one,” she said simply—“I just feel them so.”
Netherby stroked her head:
“One of these days, Betty, the world will listen to you. But don’t trouble about things until you are grown up—just enjoy your life now. Noll, Betty is too much indoors. She must get out into the fresh air of the world—she must study nature—we must take her to the theatre.”
Betty’s eyes sparkled:
“I’ve never been to a theatre,” she said, her nerves dancing.
“Then we’ll go to a pit to-morrow night, Noll, eh? all three of us.”
When Betty and Noll with Netherby descended the stairs, the door of the old lady’s sitting-room was open.