“Come, if you want to,” he said, with a smile.
She edged up to him step by step. “It’s Daddy Grandpa,” she whispered in his ear.
“Why Daddy Grandpa?” he whispered back.
“’Cause Bethany hasn’t any daddy and she hasn’t any grandpa, and she likes to call you that.”
The Judge had noticed before that in moments of great embarrassment Bethany often spoke of herself in the third person, therefore he hastened to reassure her.
“You may call me that name all the time, dear child, if it will be any comfort to you.”
A strange glow came over her face, apart from the glow of the firelight. Poor little lonely heart, craving for natural relationship and sympathy! However, she had been schooled to restrain emotion, and with a simple “Thank you, sir,” she went back to the hearthrug.
“S-s-sir,” remarked Titus, “it’s getting pretty hot here, and that pigeon is just roasting herself.”
The Judge wrinkled his eyebrows. “It is most unfortunate that that bird has contracted the habit of sitting by the fire—most abnormal, most abnormal. Open the window and see whether she will go out on the balcony.”
Bethany, who had been sitting as close as possible to Sukey’s basket, silently adoring her, moved back, and Titus got up and went to a window.