We are not sure that such a visit would be permitted in these days of stringent “rules;” at that time they may not have been very particular as to visitors, or perhaps Gertie, being one of themselves, as it were, was privileged. Be this as it may, there she was with a laughing face.
“May I come in, Sam?”
“May a cherub from the skies come in—yes,” replied Sam, rising and lifting Gertie in his strong arms until he could print a kiss on her forehead without stooping. “All well at home, Gertie?”
“Very well, thank you. We expect father home to tea.”
“I know that,” said Sam, sitting down at his small table and attempting dinner once again.
“How do you know that?” asked Gertie in surprise.
“’Cause I’ve got to pass him up wi’ the express in half-an-hour,” replied Sam, with his mouth full, “and, of course, he don’t prefer takin’ tea on the Lightenin’ with his mate Bill Garvie, w’en he’s got a chance o’ takin’ it wi’ his wife and a little angel, like you.”
“I wish you’d not talk nonsense, Sam,” remonstrated Gertie with a serious look.
“That ain’t nonsense,” said Sam, stoutly.
“Yes, it is,” said Gertie; “you know angels are good.”