“Quite sure. I am not in the least hungry.”
“Then go to bed.”
Edna came around the table to where her stepmother sat and kissed her on the cheek.
“Good-night,” she said.
“Good-night, my poor child,” murmured Mrs. Sartwell, with a sigh.
The girl kissed her father, whispering as she did so, “I’m afraid I’m your little girl again by the way you order me off to bed.”
“You will always be my little girl to me, my dear,” he said. “Good-night.”
Mrs. Sartwell sighed again as Edna closed the door.
“I suppose,” she said, “you think it fair to me to speak in whispers to Edna when I am in the room, or you wouldn’t do it. How you can expect the child to have any respect for me when you allow her to whisper——”
“Is there anything to eat in the house?”