"Well," Dr. Lavendar said, "g'long, Goliath!" and the buggy went tugging on up the hill. "David, if you'll look in my pocket you'll find some gingerbread." David thrust a hand down into the capacious pocket and brought up the gingerbread, wrapped in a red silk handkerchief. He offered it silently to Dr. Lavendar. "I don't believe I'll take any. Suppose you eat it, David?" "No, thank you, sir." Dr. Lavendar shook his head in a puzzled way. David swallowed nervously. "Please, sir," he said, "was that lady that gentleman's sister?" "Yes," Dr. Lavendar told him cheerfully. "But if she is his sister," the little boy reasoned, "why didn't she kiss him? Janey, she--she always gave me forty kisses." "Just forty?" Dr. Lavendar inquired, looking at the child over his spectacles. David was silent for a moment, then he said, earnestly: "I never counted. But Janey, she always said 'forty kisses.'" His whole face quivered. A very large tear gathered, trembled, then rolled over; he held his hands together under the lap-robe and looked the other way; then he raised one shoulder and rubbed his cheek against it. "I guess Janey was a pretty nice sister," Dr. Lavendar said. David's hands tightened; he looked up speechless, into the kind old face. "David," said Dr. Lavendar in a business-like way, "would you mind driving for me? I want to look over my note-book." "Driving?" said David. "Oh, _my!_" His cheeks were wet but his eyes shone. "I don't mind, sir. I'd just as lieves as not!" CHAPTER V "So that's the youngster we're going to adopt, is it?" Mr. Pryor said; then he looked at Helena through his curling brown lashes, with open amusement. Her eyes were full of tears. "It has been--so long," she said faintly. "I've been very busy," he explained. She nodded and smiled. "Anyhow, you are here now. But, oh, Maggie has a sore throat. I don't know what we're going to have for dinner. Oh, how glad I am you're here!" Her face was glowing, but her chin trembled. "Why, this is very flattering, I'm sure; I thought you were so taken up with your orphan that you wouldn't care whether I came or not." "You know that isn't true," she said gayly, brushing her cheek against his arm; "but isn't he a dear little fellow?--though I'm sorry his hair isn't curly." Then her face changed. "What did he mean about Alice being nineteen?" "Oh, Alice? Why, he asked me in the stage if I had any children, and I put Alice's age as a sum in mental arithmetic for him. And he asked me if my name was Goliath." But she had forgotten David. "Lloyd! To think you are here!" "Yes, I'm here, and a hamper is here, too. I hope the stage will bring it up pretty soon. I don't believe I could stand an Old Chester bill of fare. It's queer about women; they don't care what they eat. I don't believe you've got anything on hand but bread and jam and tea?"