"Your ward, like Master Edmund and Master Montagu. I'd like that, it would be lovelly."
Mr. Wycherly laughed. "It seems to me," he said, "that I have already adopted you."
"Then that's all right for just now, but afterwards, when I'm grown up, what would you like me to be, sir?"
"We'll think about that later on. Just now I want you to be an entirely happy little girl, to dance in the sunshine and get fat and merry——"
"I hope I shall never be fat," she interrupted. "I think it's hideous."
"Well, perhaps not fat—but plump and round and jolly—to learn all your good aunt teaches you and to read for yourself——
"May I read the books in the book-case in the parlour?" she asked eagerly. "I'll be so careful. I don't spoil books, I truly don't."
"Certainly you may; you will find many excellent books among them, and when I come back—I'm going to London for a few days, to-morrow—you shall tell me what you have read and we'll talk it over together."
The book-case in the dining-room was full of books that had belonged to Miss Esperance, and Mr. Wycherly felt that he was perfectly safe in giving Jane-Anne permission to read any of them. He had never even troubled to see what they were. He knew there was a whole edition of Sir Walter and most of the standard novels up to about the year 1870. Many theological works, and the little gilt books—precious these—that had come to Miss Esperance from her own mother.
"You won't be long away, I hope, sir?" Jane-Anne said wistfully. "It will seem very lonely when you are gone."