That Girl of Johnson's — page 115: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

104 ° THAT GIRL OF SUHNSON’S beautiful hair, thick and glossy, and was like a crown above her quiet face. She bathed her face in cold water, and a faint trace of color crept to her cheeks. When she was dressed she went out to the other room. Mrs. Allen had kindled a fire on the hearth, and the ket- tle was singing cheerily over the leaping flames; the coffee filled the room with fragrance. Mrs. Allen was straining beef tea into a bowl; her movements were noise less as usual; her gray dress fell softly about her plump figure; her white apron was spotless; her cap with the broad blue bow on the side, set lightly on her smooth gray hair. The breakfast-table was set invitingly near the fire, for the morning was chilly as the night had been. As Dolores entered she spoke pleasantly to her, noting the faint trace of color in the cheeks and the brightness of the brave dark eyes. : ‘“Good-morning, Dolores. Breakfast will be ready on ~ the table in a moment if you are ready.” The girl apparently did not hear the pleasant greeting ; she looked steadily into the kindly eyes opposite, her own very searching. The nurse turned away and bent over the beef tea she was making. ‘How is my father ?” “ Asleep, Miss Johnson—asleep and quiet. It is the best thing for him.” This was evading the question; the nurse knew it, and the girl knew it instinctively; she paid no heed to the quiet voice; her eyes were on the face bending over the tea. “ How is my father ?” She put slow stress on the first word. The question must be answered ; she would have an answer; she was not a child to be put off by evasive replies. Mrs. Allen bent lower over the tea; she watched it criti- cally, as though the least drop on the white table would be fatal. "Did I not just tell you he is asleep, Miss Johnson ?” * a.