"What are you doing here, little girl?" he demanded sternly,
pointedly regarding her dusty rumpled figure.
Caroline gulped and dropped her eyes.
"I--I--nothing particular," she murmured guiltily.
The man laid the piece of bread down carefully and wiped his fingers
on the napkin spread across his knees.
"Some time," he said, in a leisurely drawl, "you'll burst into a
room like that, where a person with a weak heart may be sitting, and
that'll be the last of 'em."
[Illustration: "What are you doing here, little girl?" he demanded
sternly.]
"The last of 'em?" Caroline repeated vaguely.
"Just so. They'll die on you," he explained briefly.
Caroline stepped nearer.
"Is--is your heart weak?" she inquired fearfully. "I'm so sorry. So
is my Uncle Lindsay's."
"What were you sneaking about so soft for?" he demanded.
She flushed.
"I--I was playing burglars," she confessed, "and I got to where they
were in here with the silver, and--and I was coming in to--to get
them, and I didn't expect anybody would be here, really, you know,
and I was surprised when I saw you. I didn't know about your heart."
"Burglars?" said the man, laughing loudly. "Well, that's one on me!
I must say you're a nervy young party.
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