She flushed.
"I am so helpless——" she began, when he interrupted her, saying, with a strange note in his voice, which she had never heard before:
"And for that very reason, I wish to make myself useful to you; besides, Bertha and I are very lonely without you."
The color grew deeper upon Violet's cheek, for both his look and tone were very earnest; but she promised to come down to dine with them, and then ran up to her room to make some slight change in her attire.
During dinner Mr. Lawrence was kindly attentive. He cut her meat for her, and unostentatiously prepared whatever would be awkward for her to manage, talking all the while upon some entertaining subject, and made himself so agreeable and helpful throughout the meal that Violet was glad that she had consented to resume her place at the table.
After that she came down every day, and grew quite used to having him care for her, and found it very pleasant, too.
"He is like a dear, kind father, only a great deal more thoughtful and attentive than most fathers would be," she told herself, when thinking it over afterward, and how he had interposed in every way to prevent her from feeling awkward in accepting his attentions.
Mr. Lawrence kept his word—he would allow no more lessons while she was crippled, but planned some amusement or pleasant trip for every day, until she was entirely well.
Once she remonstrated against the idle life she was leading.
"Mr. Lawrence," she said, "I do not feel right about this. I ought to be at work—I am not earning my salt."