Titus, recovering himself, begged her pardon, but she was inexorable.
“’Ceptin’ Daddy Grandpa, no boy shall ever know what became of the good lion and the bad bear,” she said, firmly, but without the slightest resentment, for she immediately went on talking to Titus on other subjects.
She did not seem to show much curiosity with regard to the English boy, though he was gazing at her with the greatest amusement and interest.
Her prattle soothed the Judge; she was beginning to be a great comfort to him. A little girl about the house was more company than a boy, and she was quieter. He liked boys, and yet there were times when he would just as soon have a whirlwind in his study as his dear grandson Titus. Bethany was never noisy, never violent. She crept about the house after him like a little mouse.
“Yes, dear,” he said; “what is it?” for she was patiently waiting for him to answer some question. “May you go to drive with me this afternoon? Certainly; it is much pleasanter to have a little girl than to go alone.”
Then, for they had all finished eating, he got up from the table.
“I want to speak to you, my lad,” he said, laying a hand on the shoulder of the English boy.
Titus looked pityingly after Dallas as the Judge led the way to the large, handsome parlor—the one room that they all disliked, since there was no woman in the house to give it a homelike air.
The Judge closed the door after him, then he turned to Dallas.
“My boy,” he said, kindly, “I am very sorry to inform you that you have come here through a mistake. Mr. Folsom was not authorized to send you. I do not see anything for you to do but to go back.”