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    She put a hand out delicately, speaking in a coaxing voice--as she spoke to the sparrows and to
    Melchisedec--as if she were some friendly little animal herself.
    "Come along, monkey darling," she said. "I won't hurt you."
    He knew she would not hurt him. He knew it before she laid her soft, caressing little paw on him and drew
    him towards her. He had felt human love in the slim brown hands of Ram Dass, and he felt it in hers. He let
    her lift him through the skylight, and when he found himself in her arms he cuddled up to her breast and
    looked up into her face.
    "Nice monkey! Nice monkey!" she crooned, kissing his funny head. "Oh, I do love little animal things."
    He was evidently glad to get to the fire, and when she sat down and held him on her knee he looked from her
    to Becky with mingled interest and appreciation.
    "He IS plain-looking, miss, ain't he?" said Becky.
    "He looks like a very ugly baby," laughed Sara. "I beg your pardon, monkey; but I'm glad you are not a baby.
    Your mother COULDN'T be proud of you, and no one would dare to say you looked like any of your
    relations. Oh, I do like you!"
    She leaned back in her chair and reflected.
    "Perhaps he's sorry he's so ugly," she said, "and it's always on his mind. I wonder if he HAS a mind. Monkey,
    my love, have you a mind?"
    But the monkey only put up a tiny paw and scratched his head.
    The Legal Small Print 104
    "What shall you do with him?" Becky asked.
    "I shall let him sleep with me tonight, and then take him back to the Indian gentleman tomorrow. I am sorry to
    take you back, monkey; but you must go. You ought to be fondest of your own family; and I'm not a REAL
    relation."
    And when she went to bed she made him a nest at her feet, and he curled up and slept there as if he were a
    baby and much pleased with his quarters.
    17
    "It Is the Child!"
    The next afternoon three members of the Large Family sat in the Indian gentleman's library, doing their best
    to cheer him up. They had been allowed to come in to perform this office because he had specially invited
    them. He had been living in a state of suspense for some time, and today he was waiting for a certain event
    very anxiously. This event was the return of Mr. Carmichael from Moscow. His stay there had been prolonged
    from week to week. On his first arrival there, he had not been able satisfactorily to trace the family he had
    gone in search of. When he felt at last sure that he had found them and had gone to their house, he had been
    told that they were absent on a journey. His efforts to reach them had been unavailing, so he had decided to
    remain in Moscow until their return. Mr. Carrisford sat in his reclining chair, and Janet sat on the floor beside
    him. He was very fond of Janet. Nora had found a footstool, and Donald was astride the tiger's head which
    ornamented the rug made of the animal's skin. It must be owned that he was riding it rather violently.
    "Don't chirrup so loud, Donald," Janet said. "When you come to cheer an ill person up you don't cheer him up
    at the top of your voice. Perhaps cheering up is too loud, Mr. Carrisford?" turning to the Indian gentleman.
    But he only patted her shoulder.
    "No, it isn't," he answered. "And it keeps me from thinking too much."
    "I'm going to be quiet," Donald shouted. "We'll all be as quiet as mice."
    "Mice don't make a noise like that," said Janet.
    Donald made a bridle of his handkerchief and bounced up and down on the tiger's head.
    "A whole lot of mice might," he said cheerfully. "A thousand mice might."
    "I don't believe fifty thousand mice would," said Janet, severely; "and we have to be as quiet as one mouse."
    Mr. Carrisford laughed and patted her shoulder again.
    "Papa won't be very long now," she said. "May we talk about the lost little girl?"
    "I don't think I could talk much about anything else just now," the Indian gentleman answered, knitting his
    forehead with a tired look.
    "We like her so much," said Nora. "We call her the little un- fairy princess."
    "Why?" the Indian gentleman inquired, because the fancies of the Large Family always made him forget
    things a little.
    The Legal Small Print 105
    It was Janet who answered.
    "It is because, though she is not exactly a fairy, she will be so rich when she is found that she will be like a
    princess in a fairy tale. We called her the fairy princess at first, but it didn't quite suit."
    "Is it true," said Nora, "that her papa gave all his money to a friend to put in a mine that had diamonds in it,
    and then the friend thought he had lost it all and ran away because he felt as if he was a robber?"
    "But he wasn't really, you know," put in Janet, hastily.
    The Indian gentleman took hold of her hand quickly.
    "No, he wasn't really," he said.
    "I am sorry for the friend," Janet said; "I can't help it. He didn't mean to do it, and it would break his heart. I
    am sure it would break his heart."
    "You are an understanding little woman, Janet," the Indian gentleman said, and he held her hand close.
    "Did you tell Mr. Carrisford," Donald shouted again, "about the little-girl-who-isn't-a-beggar? Did you tell
    him she has new nice clothes? P'r'aps she's been found by somebody when she was lost."
    "There's a cab!" exclaimed Janet. "It's stopping before the door. It is papa!"
    They all ran to the windows to look out.
    "Yes, it's papa," Donald proclaimed. "But there is no little girl."
    All three of them incontinently fled from the room and tumbled into the hall. It was in this way they always
    welcomed their father. They were to be heard jumping up and down, clapping their hands, and being caught
    up and kissed.
    Mr. Carrisford made an effort to rise and sank back again.
    "It is no use," he said. "What a wreck I am!"
    Mr. Carmichael's voice approached the door.
    "No, children," he was saying; "you may come in after I have talked to Mr. Carrisford. Go and play with Ram
    Dass."
    Then the door opened and he came in. He looked rosier than ever, and brought an atmosphere of freshness and
    health with him; but his eyes were disappointed and anxious as they met the invalid's look of eager question
    even as they grasped each other's hands.
    "What news?" Mr. Carrisford asked. "The child the Russian people adopted?"
    "She is not the child we are looking for," was Mr. Carmichael's answer. "She is much younger than Captain
    Crewe's little girl. Her name is Emily Carew. I have seen and talked to her. The Russians were able to give me
    every detail."
    How wearied and miserable the Indian gentleman looked! His hand dropped from Mr. Carmichael's.
    The Legal Small Print 106
    "Then the search has to be begun over again," he said. "That is all. Please sit down."
    Mr. Carmichael took a seat. Somehow, he had gradually grown fond of this unhappy man. He was himself so
    well and happy, and so surrounded by cheerfulness and love, that desolation and broken health seemed
    pitifully unbearable things. If there had been the sound of just one gay little high-pitched voice in the house, it
    would have been so much less forlorn. And that a man should be compelled to carry about in his breast the
    thought that he had seemed to wrong and desert a child was not a thing one could face.
    "Come, come," he said in his cheery voice; "we'll find her yet."
    "We must begin at once. No time must be lost," Mr. Carrisford fretted. "Have you any new suggestion to
    make--any whatsoever?"
    Mr. Carmichael felt rather restless, and he rose and began to pace the room with a thoughtful, though
    uncertain face.
    "Well, perhaps," he said. "I don't know what it may be worth. The fact is, an idea occurred to me as I was
    thinking the thing over in the train on the journey from Dover." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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