She heard what he said, and in a
minute, she came pattering across the carpet in her little bare feet
and climbed up on the bed beside me.
"Don't say that, brother," she begged, leaning over and kissing him.
"Dago isn't the only one that loves you, 'cause there's me. Don't
cry."
"But, oh," wailed Phil, "papa didn't say one word about my staying! He
doesn't care if I run away. He never once asked me not to, and I
believe he'll be glad when I'm gone, 'cause he can't bear to see Aunt
Patricia worried, and everything I do seems to worry her. She says she
doesn't understand boys, and I s'pose it's best for me to go. But I
don't want to. _Aow, I don't want to!_"
By this time he had worked himself up into such a spasm of crying that
he could not stop, for all little Elsie's begging. She wiped his eyes
on the sheet with her little dimpled hands, and kissed him a dozen
times. Then I think she must have grown frightened at his sobs, for
she slipped off the bed to the floor, "I'll tell papa that you don't
want to go," she said, trailing out of the room in her long white
nightgown. She had to hold it up in front to keep from tripping, and
her little bare feet went patter, patter, down the long stairs to the
library. Wondering what would happen next, I followed her into the
hall, and swung by my tail over the banister.
Doctor Tremont was sitting in a big armchair before the fire, with his
head in his hands.
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