Part 28 (1/2)

”Why, yes; we must talk to Miss Winn about it, Cynthia,” and his voice dropped to a tender inflection. ”I want you to feel this is your home and you must have all the joy and pleasures of youth. You need never be afraid. I've been a rather dull old fellow----”

”Oh, you're not old. You're not as old as Cousin Giles, and ever so much handsomer. The girls at school think,” she flushed and paused, ”that you were so good to get me the pony and the pretty wagon.” She was going to say something much more flattering, but delicacy stopped her.

”My dear,” he said gravely, ”I was glad to make you the gift, but I want you to know that there is a considerable sum of money of your own, and your father wished you to enjoy it. Whatever you want and is proper for you to have, I shall be glad to get, and to do. For I have no little girl but you.”

”Would it be wicked and selfish if I said I was glad?”

The arms tightened a little. How soft they were! And her hair brushed his cheek. It always seemed to have a delicate subtle perfume.

”No, dear. You and I are curiously alone in the world. I haven't a first cousin, neither have you.”

”And a whole houseful of folks is so nice,” she said wistfully.

He had been very well content with his books and his college friends.

But women were different, at least--those who shut out everybody narrowed their lives fearfully.

”We will try and have some.”

”And you must like it. If you do not, the greatest pleasure will be taken out of it for me.”

”I shall like it;” encouragingly.

”How good you are to me. Father said I must love you and obey you, for you would know what would be best for me.”

Then they sat in silence, the contentment of affection.

He spoke to Miss Winn the next day. Afterward they went into the parlor and opened the shutters. It was stately, grand, and gloomy.

Before Anthony Leverett had thought of sending his little girl to his care he had forwarded to Chilian a gift ”for old remembrance' sake,” he said, of a very handsome Oriental rug. Floors of the ”best rooms” had been polished until you could see your shadow in them. Chilian did not like the noise or the continual trouble. So he laid down the rug and bought one for the other room. But the heavy curtains, with their silken linings, staid up year after year. He noticed those at Giles' house were much lighter and in soft colors. And his furniture was not so ma.s.sive.

”I wish we could change things a little. That old sofa might go up in the new room. It was grand enough in my father's time, with its borders of bra.s.s-headed tacks, and its flat, hard seat. Two of these chairs might come up in my room.”

”I wish we could find a place for the lovely sort of cabinet that Cynthia's father sent over. I keep it covered from dust and scratches.

She will be glad to have it when she has a house of her own.”

”One of the rooms ought to be hers--well, both,” he added reflectively.

”The rugs are elegant. Yes, lighter curtains would change it a good deal. How very handsome the mantels are with all their carving.”

They would have adorned a modern house. They went nearly up to the ceiling with small shelves and nooks, on which were vases and ornaments such as bring fortunes now.

”And--about the party?”

”Oh, that will be only a girls' tea--her schoolmates where she has been.

Next year will be time enough for the party;” with a little laugh.

So the two s.p.a.cious rooms were quite remodelled and modernized, and the gloomy appearance was a thing of the past. Why shouldn't he spend his money on her? There was no one else.