David looked. "Why not?"
"Why, she lives at her own house, dear little boy."
"Does she pay you a visit?"
"No. David, I think the apple is done. Why didn't you roast one for Dr.
Lavendar?"
"I had to do it for you because you're company. Why doesn't she pay you a visit?"
"Because—oh, for a good many reasons. I'm afraid must go home now."
The child slipped from her knee with unflattering haste. "You've got to eat your apple first," he said, and ran to get a saucer and spoon. With great care the thread was broken and the apple secured. Then David sat calmly down in front of her to watch her eat it; but after the first two or three mouthfuls, Dr. Lavendar had pity on her, and the smoky skin and the hard core were banished to the dining-room. While the little boy was carrying them off, she said eagerly, that she wanted him.
"You'll let me have him?"
"I'm going to keep him for a while."
"Oh, do give him to me!" she urged.