"Indeed I do," protested Honora, rising with alacrity and following her host up the stairs. At the end of a hallway a nurse, who had been reading beside a lamp, got up smilingly and led the way on tiptoe into the nursery, turning on a shaded electric light. Honora bent over the crib. The child lay, as children will, with his little yellow head resting on his arm. But in a moment, as she stood gazing at him, he turned and opened his eyes and smiled at her, and she stooped and kissed him.
"Where's Daddy?" he demanded.
"We've waked him!" said Honora, remorsefully.
"Daddy," said the child, "tell me a story."
The nurse looked at Dallam reproachfully, as her duty demanded, and yet she smiled. The noise of laughter reached them from below.
"I didn't have any to-night," the child pleaded.
"I got home late," Dallam explained to Honora, and, looking at the nurse, pleaded in his turn; "just one."
"Just a tiny one," said the child.
"It's against all rules, Mr. Dallam," said the nurse, "but—he's been very lonesome to-day."
Dallam sat down on one side of him, Honora on the other.