Annie burst into tears at this unexpected tenderness. Twisting herself around, she rested her cheek against his.
"You—you leave me to myself all the time, Alexander," she sobbed, "and I've no one at all but you."
"Yes, yes, I know," he responded mournfully.
"And you don't talk to me about your work as you do to Mrs. Hart; and I could understand as well as she if you would take the trouble to explain to me."
"Well, don't cry, little kitten," he said, "I've come to explain something to you now and I hope it will please you."
"How please me?" she asked.
"Well, I have an idea at last which I think will strike your fancy. I mean it's practical," he explained, "—has commercial possibilities."
"Are you sure?" she demanded doubtfully: "you aren't a very good judge, you know."
"Never the less, I can't help knowing that anything in the line of a novel improvement of a musical instrument like the organ,—in fact, an innovation,—in these days is almost certain to succeed."
"Oh, Alexander, tell me! Tell me what you have in mind!" and raising her head from his shoulder she laid hold of his hand.