Poor Gretel stopped short, and all the brightness of anticipation went out of her face. Her voice even shook a little when she spoke.
“I’m very sorry,” she faltered, blushing, “but I’m really afraid I won’t be able to go. You see, I haven’t got any pretty things to put on, and I’m afraid you wouldn’t like to take me in this dress.”
There was a moment’s pause while Mr. Douane regarded his little sister critically from top to toe. Then he gave vent to his feelings in a long, low whistle. Gretel’s cheeks were crimson, and she was fighting hard to keep back the rising tears. But when her brother spoke his voice was as kind as ever.
“Well, never mind about the clothes,” he said; “you look very well just as you are. How about a warm wrap, though? Have you a fur coat?”
Gretel was forced to admit that she had not, but she assured her brother that her winter jacket was very warm indeed, and, moreover, that she never felt cold. Mr. Douane smiled a rather peculiar smile, but made no further remarks, and ten minutes later Gretel found herself leaning back in a comfortable touring-car, while her brother and the chauffeur wrapped a warm fur robe about her, tucking her in so snugly that she felt sure she could not possibly feel cold even if it should begin to snow.
It was such a wonderful experience that it took Gretel some time to become accustomed to it. She scarcely spoke at all during the first half hour, but it was a beautiful afternoon, and under the combined effects of bright sunshine, crisp air, and delightful motion, the little girl’s spirits soon began to rise, and by the time they had crossed Seventy-second Street, and were bowling up the beautiful Riverside Drive, she was chattering away to her companion as though she had known him all her life.
“I’m not a bit frightened this time,” she declared. “This is something else for me to be grateful to you for, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know about that,” said Mr. Douane, smiling down into the eager, radiant little face; “why should you be particularly grateful to me for a motor-ride?”
“Why, because I must be grateful to you for everything,” said Gretel, innocently. “Mrs. Marsh says I ought to be even more grateful to you than I am to her. She says if it wasn’t for the money you send I should have to go to an orphan asylum. She would be glad to keep me, only she is afraid she wouldn’t be able to afford it.”
“I see,” said Mr. Douane, quietly. “So that is how she explains matters. Well, I must say I think she might have fitted you out a little better as regards clothes. I suppose she is kind to you; you are fond of her, are you not?”