“You are very good,” said my visitor, hesitating a moment.
“Put him there!” said I, flushed with excitement, and with the hitherto unknown joy of being able to offer hospitality.
Courvoisier looked meditatively at me for a short time then laid the child upon the bed, and arranged the plaid around it as skillfully and as quickly as a woman would have done it.
“How clever he must be,” I thought, looking at him with awe, and with little less awe contemplating the motionless child.
“Wouldn’t you like something to put over him?” I asked, looking excitedly about. “I have an overcoat. I’ll lend it you.” And I was rushing off to fetch it, but he laughingly laid his hand upon my arm.
“Let him alone,” said he; “he’s all right.”
“He won’t fall off, will he?” I asked, anxiously.
“No; don’t be alarmed. Now, if you will be so good, we will see about the rooms.”
“Dare you leave him?” I asked, still with anxiety, and looking back as we went toward the door.
“I dare because I must,” replied he.