From the
furious scorn in his voice and in his flaming face she visibly shrank,
almost as if he had struck her.
"No!" she breathed. "Nothing else. Only a missionary."
Silent she stood, as if still under the spell of his words, her eyes
devouring his face.
"How your mother would have loved you, would have been proud of you,"
she said in a low tone. "Is--is there no one else to--to rejoice in
you?" she asked shyly, but eagerly.
He laughed aloud. "There's dad, dear old dad."
"And no one else?" Still with shy, eager eyes she held him.
"Oh, heaps," he cried, still laughing.
She smiled upon him, a slightly uncertain smile, and yet as if his
answer somehow satisfied her.
"Good-bye," she said impulsively, offering her hand.
"But you are not going! You're staying a few days!" he gasped.
"No, we're going. We're going right away. Goodbye," she said. "I don't
want those others to see. Goodbye. Oh, it's been a wonderful morning!
And,--and--a friend is a wonderful discovery."
Her hand held his in a strong, warm grasp, but her eyes searched his
face as if seeking something she greatly desired.
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