Evelina? How long has he known her? Will she be sweet and good like the other? Will she know how to be a mother to Doretta?
There is a sound of steps in the hall; Signor Odoardo pauses in the middle of the room. The door re-opens, and Doretta rushes up to her father, her cheeks flushed, her hood falling over her forehead, her warm coat buttoned up to her chin, her hands thrust into her muff.
"It is snowing and the teacher has sent us home."
She tosses off her hood and coat and goes up to the stove.
"There is a good fire, but the room is cold," she exclaims.
As a matter of fact, the window having stood open for half an hour, the thermometer indicates but fifty degrees.
"Papa," Doretta goes on, "I want to stay with you all day long to-day."
"And suppose your poor daddy has affairs of his own to attend to?"
"No, no, you must give them up for to-day."
And Doretta, without waiting for an answer, runs to fetch her books, her doll, and her work. The books are spread out on the desk, the doll is comfortably seated on the sofa, and the work is laid out upon a low stool.
"Ah," she cries, with an air of importance, "what a mercy that there is no school to-day!
