Dora made no audible answer, but in her heart arose the words—"I shall never do that. Mother doubts my powers, I see, but in a little while she will own she has misjudged me."
At this point the conversation was interrupted by Edgar's entrance. He looked very tired as he threw himself wearily down in an arm-chair.
Mrs. Grainger went to him, and laid her hand on his shoulder.
"For your sake I shall be glad when Mr. Barfitt has balanced his accounts, dear boy," she said, fondly. "Now you shall have a cup of cocoa, and then you must go off to bed at once. You were awake at half-past four this morning, and that left you a very short night's rest."
"I suppose that is the reason why I feel so tired," he replied with a sigh. "But you know I am very glad to go to Mr. Barfitt in the evening, and it's really very good of him to have me. He must find me a very different accountant from father. Need you go to make the cocoa, mother?"
Edgar would have liked to keep her soft warm hand in his, and she knew it. But the little maid had gone to bed, and Dora, sitting on the hearthrug, was gazing fixedly at the clear, red-hot coal. She was enjoying a reverie, and her mother would not disturb her.
"I shall not be a minute, dear. I will fetch the little kettle, and boil it here."
Dora was still in the same position when she returned, and not a word had passed between the brother and sister. But the clatter of the teacup and saucer, as Mrs. Grainger placed the tray on the table, aroused her, and the next instant she rose from the floor.
"I think I'll go to bed now, mother," she said. Then as she saw the kettle, she added, "Why didn't you ask me to fetch that for you?"
"You were busy, dear, with your own thoughts, and I did not wish to interrupt you."