“How changed it is!” I said again.
“Why, so it is,” he answered much more cheerfully; “and it is wisdom in you to keep me to the bright side of the picture.” (The idea of my wisdom!) “These are things I never talk about or even think about, excepting in the growlery here. If you consider it right to mention them to Rick and Ada,” looking seriously at me, “you can. I leave it to your discretion, Esther.”
“I hope, sir—” said I.
“I think you had better call me guardian, my dear.”
I felt that I was choking again—I taxed myself with it, “Esther, now, you know you are!”—when he feigned to say this slightly, as if it were a whim instead of a thoughtful tenderness. But I gave the housekeeping keys the least shake in the world as a reminder to myself, and folding my hands in a still more determ
