David, again teetering on his crutches, lowered himself to the bed.
"Hello, partner!" he returned.
Bab pricked up her ears. Partner, eh? Her grandfather's feeling for David evidently was different from his feeling for David's father! Of his fondness for the cripple she had shortly, in fact, a rather disconcerting proof. Beeston lay there, his dark face lit momentarily with interest at their talk, when of a sudden she felt his gnarled fingers shut themselves on hers. Then with his other hand her grandfather reached out and touched David on the arm.
"Like her, Davy?" he demanded, a jerk of his head denoting Bab.
Startled, she felt herself crimson. David, too, seemed just a bit embarrassed. Then, the humor of it striking him, he threw back his head and roared.
"That's a nice question!" he laughed, adding then: "Of course I like Bab! Every bit of her! Why do you ask?"
A rumbling growl emerged from the depths of the pillows.
"I wanted to make sure," avowed her grandfather, grimly frank.
Flushed and confused, she was thankful when Beeston saw fit to turn to another topic. The fact is that her new place in life, even with its vast advantages, she had already begun to find trying. Presently she was to find it even more so.
Not only that day, it chanced, but for many days to come, a stream of limousines and smart broughams came trundling up to the Beeston door, their occupants, with well-bred though not the less eager interest, curious to have a look at her. Bab's story, it appeared, already was widely known. Of those who came, though, only a few, the most intimate of Miss Elvira's cronies, were admitted; but few as they were, to see them was in each instance an ordeal. Not that they were not kind—they were—but the girl felt as though she were something on exhibit; and to this Miss Elvira innocently contributed. Bab had a full share of good looks, and in addition to this an easy and charming manner; and of this Miss Elvira seemed with complete satisfaction to herself to be aware.