I know all the streets now, or most of them, and can find my way about nicely. I did not meet any of my friends, or anybody I knew. While pleasant and interesting, it was an uneventful morning.
Shortly after my return Mr. Bang arrived carrying a bundle which proved to contain a quantity of evergreen wreathing. This he dumped on the drawing-room floor, remarking: “You may help me decorate this afternoon, Little Partner.”
After lunch we set to work, festooning the chandeliers and picture frames, and soon I became absorbed in the effort—and in Mr. Bang’s conversation. For the time being I forgot society and found myself laughing quite merrily. In fact, I confess I was thoroughly happy.
Mr. Bang, like Uncle, has a tendency to run off into long, confidential dissertations. He began to talk about himself, and I was interested. I will try and reproduce what he said in his own words. He is rather fond of long words, which sometimes are ponderous.
“I’m engaged in driving a tunnel on the Rat River Railway; MacDonald, who is my partner, and I have the contract. This will keep us going for months. It is an important piece of work and he is here negotiating for it. There is plenty of red-tape in the way, so I am likely to be here a tolerable time. Shall you be glad?”
Fancy asking me that question! “I shall be glad if you have a good time,” I said cautiously.
“There is no reason you should be glad if I stay, so far as I can see,” he said frankly. “I asked the question simply out of interest in your reply. May I confess that I take an interest in my ‘Little Partner,’ and am anxious to learn if society is spoiling her? She is too good to be spoiled.” He looked at me as if he were looking through me.
“Why?” I demanded, startled by the trend of his conversation.
“You have a conscience and—you have a heart.”
“I!”