"I hope you find yourself comfortable, nurse, and that my children are
good to you."
"They could not be better, sir, and I am quite comfortable, thank you,"
I returned, with unusual meekness. I was not a very meek person
generally, as Uncle Keith could testify, but there was a subduing
influence in Mr. Morton's look and voice. I must own I was rather afraid
of him, and I would not have omitted the "sir" for worlds, neither would
I have seated myself without his bidding; but he took it all quite
naturally.
"As my wife and I are dining out, Joyce will not come down in the
drawing-room as usual," he observed, in his business-like manner. "Do
you hear, my little girl? Mother and I are engaged this evening, and you
must stay upstairs with Reggie."
"Werry tiresome," I heard Joyce say under her breath, and then she
looked up pleadingly into her father's face. "Her is coming by-and-by,
fardie?"
"Oh, no doubt," stroking the dark hair; "but mother is driving at
present. Now, say good-bye to me, Joyce, and you must give me a kiss,
too, my boy. Good-evening, nurse." And that was all we saw of Joyce's
father that day; only an hour later, when the nursery tea was over, and
I was undressing the boy by the bedroom fire, while Joyce stood beside
me, removing the garments carefully from a favourite doll, and
chattering as fast as a purling brook, I saw Mrs.
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