The laughing glance that came to him now was precisely another of the child's looks that he remembered; a look that recognized his sympathy, and answered it out of a fund of heart treasure.
"I live between my corner at the top of the house, and Mrs. Purcell's corner at the bottom. I have no place but my room and her kitchen."
"Where can I see you? We have a great deal to talk about. Rotha, suppose you go for a drive with me?"
Rotha's eyes sparkled. "It would not be the first time," she said.
"No. Then the next question is, when can we go?" He looked at his watch.
"It is too late for this afternoon," Rotha opined.
"I am afraid it is. I do not think we can manage it. Then—Rotha, will you be ready to-morrow morning? How early can you be ready?"
"We have breakfast about half past six."
"We?"
"Yes," said Rotha half laughing. "We. That is, Mr. Purcell, and his wife, and myself."