“Come and have tea with a solitary somebody?” the widow begged the girl wistfully. “You think that the Lucinda Home is lonesome, but don’t forget that an old lady who loved your mother and who loves you is lonesome, too.”
“Dearest Hennie, you haven’t the slightest idea of what loneliness is.” Virginia smiled sweetly at the older woman and kissed her. “I would enjoy taking tea with you but I must not forget my father. Probably all afternoon he has been making plans to help the people who work in his mill. I think he is so like my mother–always trying to make other people happier. You loved her, Hennie, and you know him. I want you to help me to be unselfish like them.”
During this recital, Mrs. Henderson underwent a severe test in self-repression, the high praise of Obadiah’s disinterestedness nearly causing severe internal injury. There was yet an ominous flash in her eye as she bade the girl farewell.
Virginia found her father awaiting her. His digestive organs were protesting by certain unpleasant twinges, against the extra work he had forced upon them.
“Where have you been?” he demanded of her sharply.
She dropped into the chair by his side. “At Mrs. Henderson’s, Daddy.”
“You left me alone,” he complained.
“You went to sleep and I was so lonesome, Daddy dear.”
“That makes no difference. You should not have left me. You have the week days to yourself. I ought to have your Sundays.”
“Oh, I am sorry that I was so thoughtless,” Virginia reproached herself, with a suspicion of tears in her eyes.