“You’ll try an’ eat a little, my dear? Here’s somethin’ as has been made particular. After travellin’,—just a spoonful or two.”
Clara expressed reluctance.
“I don’t feel hungry, father. Presently, perhaps.”
“Well, well; it do want to cool a bit. Do you feel able to sit up?”
“Yes. Don’t take so much trouble, father. I’d rather you left me alone.”
The tone was not exactly impatient; it spoke a weary indifference to everything and every person.
“Yes, I’ll go away, dear. But you’ll eat just a bit? If you don’t like this, you must tell me, and I’ll get something you could fancy.”
“It’ll do well enough. I’ll eat it presently; I promise you.”
John hesitated before going.
“Clara,—shall you mind Amy and Annie comin’ to sleep here? If you’d rather, we’ll manage it somehow else.”
“No. What does it matter? They can
