“I don't see what makes you think so.”
“She is like a harp that's overstrung,” said Henry.
“How queer you talk!”
“Well, she is; and if she is now, what is she going to be when she's older? Well, I hope the Lord will deal gently with her. He's given her too many feelings, and I hope He will see to it that they ain't tried too hard.” Henry said this last with the half-bitter melancholy which was growing upon him.
“I guess she will get along all right,” said Eunice, comfortably. “She's a pretty little girl, and her mother has looked out for her clothes, if she did scoot off and leave her. I wonder how long she's going to stay in foreign parts?”
Henry shook his head. “Do you want to know how long?” he said.
“Yes. What do you mean, Henry?”
“She's going to stay just as long as she has a good time there. If she has a good time there she'll stay if it's years.”
“You don't mean you think she would go off and leave that darling little girl a whole year?”
“I said years,” replied Henry.