The child smiled in return, and looked into the rear of the room, saying something Sidney could not hear. But a moment later the head of a pale, sad-faced woman appeared above that of the little girl.
She bowed to Sidney and then moved quickly away.
"How ill Mrs. Stewart looks!" thought kind-hearted Sidney. "I imagine Christmas did not bring many good things to this house. I remember now that I fully intended to send little Mabel a doll; but—"
And then he stopped and blushed hotly. Another good intention never carried out.
Fortunately, he found Mrs. Flynn in, and she promised to go to his mother at once. So he walked away, feeling that he had done his best to repair the neglect of the previous day.
His next stopping-place was his father's office, which was a room built on to the warehouse, and communicating with it by a single door.
There was another door which opened on to a side alley, and was kept always locked. It was the door used exclusively by his father for entrance and exit. But Sidney was a privileged person, and had been allowed a pass-key. So he entered the office now without having to go through the busy warehouse.
He was disappointed to find the room empty. His father had promised to give him some money to buy powder, shot and caps for the new gun he had received on Christmas Day, and, like all boys, he felt that time was very precious when he was going to buy anything of that sort.
"Now I suppose I've got to wait," he soliloquized, as he threw himself into the swivel-chair in front of his father's desk. "It'll be noon before I get a chance to try the gun, I dare say."
He played with a paper-cutter at first; but soon his attention was attracted by a letter on the desk, the superscription of which was in a familiar hand.