"Dear father! Dear, dear father, don't thee let me go to bed! Let me sit by thee while thee hast thy supper. Patience may keep the glass, but don't thee let me go."
It was quite a picture—the child clinging there with her crimsoned cheeks, her wet eyelashes, and her soft flowing hair. Samuel Lynn, albeit a man not given to demonstration, strained her to him with a loving movement. Perhaps the crime of looking into a doll's glass and toying with her hair appeared to him more venial than it did to Patience; but then, she was his beloved child.
"Will thee transgress again, Anna?"
"No, I never will," sobbed Anna.
"Then Patience will suffer thee to sit up this once. But thee must be careful."
He placed her in a chair close to him. Patience, disapproving very much but saying nothing, left the room. Grace appeared with the supper-tray, and a message that Patience would take her supper in the kitchen. It was at this juncture that Mrs. Halliburton came in. She told the Quaker that she had come to consult him about William; and mentioned her intentions.
"To tell thee the truth, friend, I have marvelled much that thee did not, under thy circumstances, seek to place out thy eldest son," was the answer. "He might be helping thee."
"He is young to earn anything, Mr. Lynn. Do you see a chance of my getting him a place?"
"That depends, friend, upon the sort of place he may wish for. I could help him to a place to-morrow. But it is one that may not accord with thy notions."
"What is it?" eagerly asked Jane.