"Well," said Dr. Lavendar, as, hand in hand, they walked to the big, roaring place where the cars were, "Well, David, to-morrow we shall be at home again! You sit down here and take care of my bag while I go and get the tickets."
David slid sidewise on to the slippery wooden settee. He had nothing to say; again he felt that bleak sinking right under his little breast-bone; but it stopped in the excitement of seeing Mrs. Richie's brother coming into the waiting-room! There was a young lady at his side, and he piloted her across the big, bare room, to the very settee upon which David was swinging his small legs.
"I must see about the checks, dear," he said, and hurried off without a glance at the little boy who was guarding Dr. Lavendar's valise.
The sun pouring through the high, dusty window, shone into David's eyes. He wrinkled his nose and squinted up at the young lady from under the visor of his blue cap. She smiled down at him, pleasantly, and then opened a book; upon which David said bravely, "You're nineteen. I'm seven, going on eight."
"What!" said the young lady; she put her book down, and laughed. "How do you know I am nineteen, little boy?"
"Mrs. Richie's brother said so."
She looked at him with amused perplexity. "And who is Mrs. Richie's brother?"
David pointed shyly at the vanishing figure at the end of the waiting-room.
"Why, no, dear, that's my father."
"I know," said David; "he's Mr. Pryor, Mrs. Richie's brother. He comes and stays at our house."