"Why, Emmie, my dear," he said kindly, "has your sister brought you over to see us? surely you have not come alone this cold evening."
"Queenie and Cathy are talking so busily that they will not miss me; they think I am with Patience. I did not mind the cold a bit; I came all by myself, because I wanted to see you, Mr. Garth."
"To see me!" in a surprised tone, for, in spite of their friendship, Emmie had never before distinguished him in this way; her visits had always been to Langley. "Well, I am highly honored, and must make much of my visitor. Will this thing untie?" touching the red hood. But Emmie took no notice of his question; she stood beside him with her large blue eyes fixed gravely on his face, and then she put up her hand and stroked his cheek, but very gently and timidly.
"Poor Mr. Garth, I am so sorry for you."
"Why, my dear?" But he was touched in spite of himself, the little thin hand spoke so eloquently.
"Because you have lost all your money, and are so dreadfully unhappy. Was there a great deal, Mr. Garth?"
"Well, it was a tolerably large sum, at least for me," he replied gravely.
"And God has taken it away from you; that is very sad, is it not? I don't like to think of you being poor, it makes me feel bad all over."
"Why, Emmie, I never expected you to feel it like this! You must not trouble your dear little head about my affairs."
"I am sorry, but not half so sorry as Queenie is, I know, though she says so little about it. She never talks now, at least hardly at all, and she has not told me stories for ever so long; but she sits and looks at the fire, and sometimes her eyes are full of tears, though she thinks I do not see them."