"I did not know but you might have some affection for this old one," said Dolly. "I did not want to change the look of the room before you came, so that it would not seem like home. Aunt Harry said I would spoil you."
"What did you answer to that?"
"I said it was more likely you would spoil me," said Dolly, dimpling up and flushing.
"Do you think I will?" said Sandie, taking her hand and drawing her up to him.
Dolly hesitated, flushed and dimpled more, and answered, however, a frank "No."
"Why?" was the quick next question.
"You ask too many things," said Dolly. "Don't you want something to eat?"
"No, not at all!—Yes."
"I thought so," said Dolly, laughing. "Come, then."
She put her hand in his and led him across the broad hall to the dining-room. And during the next hour Sandie might have recurred with reason to his late remark; that Christina had been near coming between him and happiness. The careless luxury of her way of entertaining him, was in strongest contrast to the sweet, thoughtful, delicate housewifery of his wife. It was a constant pleasure to watch her. Tea-making, in her hands, was a nice art; her fingers were deft to cut bread; and whenever the hands approached him, whether it were to give a cup of tea or to render some other ministry, it was with an indescribable shyness and carefulness at once, which was wholly bewitching. Sandie was hungry, no doubt; but his feast was mental that night, and exquisite.