I leaned my head back against the
vine-clad pillar behind me and almost sobbed. I was feeling miserable.
A footfall somewhere made me spring into an erect, sitting posture
again. I took an ivy leaf between my fingers and toyed nervously with
it I waited for a confirmation of my worst fears, that my step-mother
had followed me and heard me sigh, but there was no one. When all was
quiet again I ventured to look carefully around. The secret was out,
on a rustic bench at the other side of my graceful canopy "somebody"
was sitting alone. His profile met my full view, his pensive half-sad
profile. I looked at it for a moment and, springing up, I moved aside
my rocking chair and rushed towards him.
"Mr. Dalton!" I cried out impulsively, and then stopped suddenly
short--what if it were not he at all?
He turned and caught me in my attitude of suppressed excitement, the
bench was between us. He held out both hands over its curved back
saying:
"Amey, is it you?"
There was a strange look as of a misty uncertain pleasure in his eyes.
I gave him my small hands, for they were small when he had gathered
them into his, and we looked at one another in silence for a few
moments.
"Come here and sit down beside me little one," he said in his old
affectionate way. "How you have grown!" he exclaimed, moving one end
of the rustic seat to let me pass. I had forgotten all about Mr.
Haliburton or any one else but Mr. Dalton; the glad surprise of seeing
him absorbed every other consideration.
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