"Have you any little boys and girls?" David asked, watching the apple.
"Come and climb on my knee and I'll tell you," she bribed him.
He came reluctantly; the apple was spinning briskly now under the impulse of a woolly burst of pulp through the red skin.
"Have you?" he demanded.
"No, David."
Here his interest in Mrs. Richie's affairs flagged, for the apple began to steam deliciously. Dr. Lavendar, watching her with his shrewd old eyes, asked her one or two questions; but, absorbed in the child, she answered quite at random. She put her cheek against his hair, and whispered, softly: "Turn round, and I'll give you forty kisses." Instantly David moved his head away. The snub was so complete that she looked over at Dr. Lavendar, hoping he had not seen it. "I once knew a little baby," she said, trying to hide her embarrassment, "that had curly hair the color of yours."
"It has begun to drip," said David briefly. "Does Alice live at your house?"
"Alice!"
"The gentleman—your brother—said Alice was nineteen. I thought maybe she lived at your house."
"No, dear. Look at the apple!"