“What did he say to that?” asked Mrs. Dupont.
“Oh, he only laughed and said I was a queer boy, and that I might work for my living if I wanted to.”
“Now, Dora,” said her mother, “you must hold still or I shall never be able to dress you. Put on your gloves while I pin the collar. I fear Robert will not wish to take you riding often if you don’t make a better appearance. Ladies never go to ride without their gloves.”
“But, mamma, I ain’t a lady; I’m only a little girl, and I hate gloves and starched things.”
The bright little face was very red just now from the effort of putting on the troublesome gloves, and there was something very like a pout upon the red lips.
“Well, never mind, dear,” returned her mother, kindly, “you will forget all about them after you have started. Have a happy time, and come home and tell me all about it. I hope you are a careful driver,” she added, turning to Robert. “You won’t forget that Dora is my all now.”
“You may trust me, auntie, and then old Prince is so gentle there is no fear. Come, Brightie, you are ready now, and we will start.”
He took Dora by the hand, and leading her to the buggy, put her carefully in; then unfastening the horse he sprang lightly after her, and with smiles and waving of hands they started, and were soon out of sight.
Mrs. Dupont stood looking after them for a few minutes, a happy smile upon her fine face. She was a widow, and this one pet lamb—this bright and winsome Dora was her all in the world.
Her husband had been a physician, and had settled in S—— soon after marriage, building up a good practice, which increased every year; until he had earned this snug little home, which with a few thousands at interest, made him feel quite easy as to the future. Besides this he had his life insured for five thousand more, and so when he was suddenly stricken with a malignant fever, and knew he could not live, he felt that he should leave his dear ones in comfortable circumstances if not in affluence. It was a heavy blow to Mrs. Dupont, for it left her almost alone in the world. She was an orphan, with no relatives except a maiden aunt, who, disapproving her union with the poor physician, had cast her off forever, and threatened to leave her large fortune to some charitable institution.