Her aunt wisely took no notice of it. In a few minutes the cloud of passion passed away from Harebell's face.
She crept away from the table very silently when breakfast was over. She passed Andy in the hall.
"It's no use," she said tragically; "I shan't be able to live here. I shall die of a broken heart!"
"Oh!" said Andy with his merry twinkle. "You won't die of it with me at hand. I know how to mend hearts when they're broken. I can mend most things, and people's hearts are stronger than they think. Mostly cracks, not breakages."
Harebell looked at him with eager interest.
"How do you know the difference?" she said. "My fairy book tells me of broken hearts—it says nothing of cracks."
"Ah!" said Andy with a nod. "You let me feel yours later in the day, when my work is done, I'll soon tell you; but I'm clearing away the breakfast now."
He went on into the dining-room. Harebell gave a little skip along the passage; her heart felt lighter already. She put her small hands upon it, or upon the place in her chest in which she thought it was.
"I suppose it isn't exactly broken yet," she said to herself, "but I never know how soon it will be, if I don't get a puppy!"
She went on into the little room that was to be her schoolroom. Andy had let her see it before breakfast.