"what a lonely life for this beautiful young girl!"
all that day the sweet face of bernardine moore was before doctor gardiner. he found himself actually looking forward to the morrow, when he should see her again. he deceived himself completely as to the cause, telling himself that it was because of his pity for her, and the desolate life she was leading.
the next day when he called, bernardine again met him at the door.
"papa has been calling for you," she said. then she stopped short, in dire confusion, as she remembered the reason why he was so anxious to see him. "he has just fallen into a light sleep. i will go and awaken him at once and tell him you are here."
"by no means," he said. "pray do not awaken him; the sleep he is having is better than medicine. will you permit me to sit down and talk with you for a few moments, until he awakens?"
she looked anxiously at him for a moment, then said, with charming frankness:
"would you mind very much if i went on with my work. i have several baskets to be finished by night, when they will be called for."
"by no means. pray proceed with your work. do not let me disturb you," he answered, hastily. "i shall consider it a great favor if you will allow me to watch you as you work."
"certainly," said bernardine, "if you will not mind coming into our little work-shop," and she led the way with a grace that completely charmed him.
the place was devoid of any furniture save two or three wooden chairs, which the girl and her father occupied at their work, the long wooden bench, the great coils of willow—the usual paraphernalia of the basket-makers' trade.
she sat down on her little wooden seat, indicating a seat opposite for him. he watched her eagerly as her slim white fingers flew in and out among the strands of trailing willow quickly taking shape beneath her magic touch.
"it must be a very lonely life for you," said jay gardiner, after a moment's pause.
"i do not mind; i am never lonely when father is well," she answered, with a sweet, bright smile. "we are great companions, father and i. he regales me by the hour with wonderful stories of things he used to see when he was a steamboat captain. but he met with an accident one time, and then he had to turn to basket-making."
as he conversed with the young girl, jay gardiner was indeed surprised to see what a fund of knowledge that youthful mind contained. she was the first young girl whom he had met who could sit down and talk sensibly to a man. her ideas were so sweet, so natural, that it charmed him in spite of himself. she was like a heroine out of a story-book—just such a one, he thought, as martha washington must have been in her girlhood days. his admiration and respect for her grew with each moment.
