"Wait, I'll help you," she said. She came into the room, up to the
table, and moved the pamphlets to one side.
"Thanks, thanks," murmured Old Grannis, setting down the tray.
"Now--now--now I will go back," she exclaimed, hurriedly.
"No--no," returned the old Englishman. "Don't go, don't go. I've been
so lonely to-night--and last night too--all this year--all my life," he
suddenly cried.
"I--I--I've forgotten the sugar."
"But I never take sugar in my tea."
"But it's rather cold, and I've spilled it--almost all of it."
"I'll drink it from the saucer." Old Grannis had drawn up his armchair
for her.
"Oh, I shouldn't. This is--this is SO--You must think ill of me."
Suddenly she sat down, and resting her elbows on the table, hid her face
in her hands.
"Think ILL of you?" cried Old Grannis, "think ILL of you? Why, you don't
know--you have no idea--all these years--living so close to you, I--I--"
he paused suddenly. It seemed to him as if the beating of his heart was
choking him.
"I thought you were binding your books to-night," said Miss Baker,
suddenly, "and you looked tired. I thought you looked tired when I last
saw you, and a cup of tea, you know, it--that--that does you so much
good when you're tired.
Pages:
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390