“Can’t you come and get it?”
“I don’t know.”
It was aggravating. The child seemed purposely obtuse. Nora had an instinctive feeling that somehow she was the object of abuse. Her cringing manner indicated oppression.
“Now, Lucia,” she began again, “if you come here every day I’ll come all alone, except for Cap, and I’ll bring you lovely things to eat. Wouldn’t you like that?”
“Sure.”
“Then you will come?”
“What time?”
“In the morning—about this time. Would that be all right for you?”
“If Nick is gone.”
“Who is Nick?”