"He will let you have it, dear. Mr. Goodman doesn't want it. It was brought here by mistake," said Marion, reassuringly putting her arm around the child.
That any one could see such a cake and not want it was naturally beyond James Mandeville's powers of belief. He stood silent, looking from Marion to Mr. Goodman.
"Of course you can have it. What do I want with it?" asked the old man, grimly.
James Mandeville moved forward and slipped his small, soft hand into Giant Despair's big, hard one. "I'll tell you," he said, "you can come to the party, and I'll let you have a slice of it; and you can help blow out the candles."
The little voice was eager, but the confiding touch of the dimpled hand did most execution.
"We shall be glad to have you, Mr. Goodman," Miss Carpenter said, laughing. "The party is to be in the shop, and very select for the reason that our circle of friends is limited."
"There's going to be candy," added James Mandeville.
Giant Despair was embarrassed. "Thank you," he said; "I have not been to a party for a hundred years, and I am in too bad a humor to-day." Then it seemed necessary to explain the cause,—the lost lease that had been burned or thrown in the ash barrel.
Miss Carpenter stood beside a table on which lay several large volumes; from the leaves of one of them the edge of a folded paper was visible. "Could this be it?" she asked.
"Pshaw! I put it there myself. Confound my eyes and my memory!" cried the old man.