"W'at I like," Mr. Winship said, his frosty blue eyes twinkling with enjoyment, "is to see Sis here gittin' a good dose o' home folks; do her more good'n med'cine."
And almost he seemed right, for, as the minutes wore on, a brighter colour rose to Helen's cheeks, and the marvellous charm she knows so well how to use held us fascinated. She waged a war of jests with the Judge and fell back into her old caressing ways with Miss Baker. Ethel could scarcely contain her happiness, and even Milly showed signs of melting.
I brought Helen away as early as I could—as soon as we had completed plans for a quiet wedding next Wednesday.
"I hope you're proud of her, Ezra," declared Mrs. Baker as we took leave; "she told you she's refused a title? But there! All foreigners break their wives' hearts—Nelly's a sensible girl! You didn't expect, though, to find New York crazy over her?"
"Oh, I don't know; Helen 'Lizy's ma was a hansome girl; Sis here had ought to be satisfied if she wears a half as well."
"Come again thoon to thing to Joy," lisped the baby; "Joy loveth you tho muth."
Helen buried her face in the yellow curls, and when she turned away her eyes were wet.
I stayed at the studio only long enough to beg Kitty to see that her charge rests. Just as we were parting at the door, Helen turned full on me her great, lambent eyes.
"Do you love me?" she asked suddenly.
"Why, I loved you," I replied, "when you were a little freckled Nelly in pigtails."