CHAPTER I. "The gentleman under the table," she answered. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. Wood sank, submissively, into a chair, while his daughter hastened to execute her arbitrary parent's commission. You haven’t an idea what the sort of employment you could get there would be like, the sort of people you would be mixed up with. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. What would he come as? Presently she roused herself with a guilty start from the task of dressing and re-dressing Mr. 'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around. Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery.
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