"Well," he asked, "can I help you? You seem very uncertain."
"I am. Put your hat and coat over there"--she pointed to the covered
cot close to the wall--"then come back and tell me."
He did as directed and, hands in pockets, stood again in front of her.
"Is"--his face whitened--"is it about Miss Barbour? Can you send her
word?"
"Send now? I guess not!" On tiptoes the child looked for something on
the mantel-piece. "We haven't had supper yet, and I'm so hungry I
could eat air. Besides, she has a class to-night--The Little Big
Sisters. I'm one when I can go, but I can't go often." She waved her
hand in the direction of her father. "I'll send for her 'bout half
past nine. Which do you like best, sardines with lemon on 'em, or
toasted cheese on toast with syrup afterward? Which?"
The tone was one of momentous inquiry. Miss Barbour's coming was a
matter that could wait, but supper necessitated a solemn decision
which must be made at once. Hands clasped behind her, the blue eyes
grew big with suspense, and again she repeated, "Which?"
"I really don't know. Both are very good.
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