"No, he wasn't really," he said.
"I am sorry for the friend," Janet said; "I can't help it.
He didn't mean to do it, and it would break his heart. I am sure
it would break his heart."
"You are an understanding little woman, Janet," the Indian
gentleman said, and he held her hand close.
"Did you tell Mr. Carrisford," Donald shouted again, "about the
little-girl-who-isn't-a-beggar? Did you tell him she has new
nice clothes? P'r'aps she's been found by somebody when she was lost."
"There's a cab!" exclaimed Janet. "It's stopping before the door.
It is papa!"
They all ran to the windows to look out.
"Yes, it's papa," Donald proclaimed. "But there is no little girl."
All three of them incontinently fled from the room and tumbled into
the hall. It was in this way they always welcomed their father.
They were to be heard jumping up and down, clapping their hands,
and being caught up and kissed.
Mr. Carrisford made an effort to rise and sank back again.
"It is no use," he said. "What a wreck I am!"
Mr. Carmichael's voice approached the door.
"No, children," he was saying; "you may come in after I have talked
to Mr. Carrisford. Go and play with Ram Dass."
Then the door opened and he came in. He looked rosier than ever,
and brought an atmosphere of freshness and health with him; but his
eyes were disappointed and anxious as they met the invalid's look
of eager question even as they grasped each other's hands.
"What news?" Mr. Carrisford asked. "The child the Russian
people adopted?"
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