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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Papa Drugg be right back; Papa Drugg be right back," she said, forming the phrase with evident difficulty. Janice went close to her and laid a hand upon Lottie's shoulder. The little girl caught at it quickly, ran her slim fingers up her arm to her shoulder and so, jumping up from the box, felt of Janice's face, too. The latter stooped and kissed her. "I know you I know you," murmured the child.
With all her faults she had a sincere affection for her friend, and was shrewd enough to perceive that this affair with Hemstead promised to be more serious than Lottie's passing penchants had been previously. But with her usual weakness and irresolution she hesitated and waited, Micawber-like, to see what would "turn up." The impression grew on Mrs.
Her father was the first to relent, and was finally brought, by Lottie's irresistible witchery, quite over on her side. But, in her mother's case, there was only partial resignation to a great but inevitable misfortune. Mrs. Marsden was a sincere idolater of the world for which she lived. In Aunt Jane, Lottie had a stanch ally, and a sympathizing and comforting helper.
Lottie sat by the hearth, the firelight playing upon an unusually grave and thoughtful face. "Well," he exclaimed, "you look for all the world like an old married couple keeping Sunday together." Of course Hemstead flushed. But why should Lottie's color grow richer than the ruddy fire-light warranted?
De Forrest noted and chafed over this subtile interchange. Bel and Mrs. Marchmont saw it also, and Mr. Dimmerly's queer chuckling laugh was heard with increasing frequency. But what could be done? Lottie's and Hemstead's actions were propriety itself. Mrs. Marchmont could not say, "You must not look at or speak to each other."
It did not occur to him that he was growing sensitive in regard to her treatment of himself, as well as of the truth. He readily assented to Lottie's request that he should accept Mrs. Byram's invitation, and found a strange pleasure in her graciousness and vivacity at the supper-table.
" I, too, am an ostrich ! What did she mean by that?" and Hemstead pondered over this ornithological problem for hours after. Lottie's radiant face at supper, in contrast with her clouded one at dinner, again puzzled certain members of the household; and De Forrest, to his disgust, learned that while he slept she had again been with Hemstead.
Lottie's greeting in the breakfast-room was not very cordial, and she seemed to treat him with cool indifference throughout the whole meal. There was nothing that the others would note, but something that he missed himself.
She was the type of multitudes of her fair sisters, who, with sparkling eyes, look out upon life in its morning to see only what it offers to them, and not the tasks it furnishes them for others. Only by experience only by God's logic of events do they find that their happiness is in these tasks; in unselfish giving and doing. The world had been at Lottie's feet.
They needed no explanations. Frank Hemstead's face had ever been as easily interpreted as his honest words; and he now had taught Lottie's face to tell the truth. A blessed truth it revealed to him that Christmas day. As he entered the pulpit that morning his face was radiant with the purest human love, as well as love to God.
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