“Won’t you come and make acquaintance with my father?” he nevertheless ventured to ask. “He’s old and infirm—he doesn’t leave his chair.”
“Ah, poor man, I’m very sorry!” the girl exclaimed, immediately moving forward. “I got the impression from your mother that he was rather intensely active.”
Ralph Touchett was silent a moment. “She hasn’t seen him for a year.”
“Well, he has a lovely place to sit. Come along, little hound.”
“It’s a dear old place,” said the young man, looking sidewise at his neighbour.
“What’s his name?” she asked, her attention having again reverted to the terrier.
“My father’s name?”
“Yes,” said the young lady with amusement; “but don’t tell him I asked you.”
They had come by this time to where old Mr. Touchett was sitting, and he slowly got up from his chair to introduce himself.
“My mother has arrived,” said Ralph, “and this is Miss Archer.”