Salina drew close to uncle Nathan's chair—very close considering the circumstances, and, with a relenting voice, answered, "Well, Mr. Nathan, I'm here—what is it you want to say?"
Uncle Nathan reached forth his hand. Salina's unconsciously crept out from the folds of her shawl, in a sort of way as if she didn't intend to let the left hand know what the right was about.
"Salina," said uncle Nathan, pressing her fingers in his broad palm.
"Well, uncle Nathan?"
"My heart is full to-night, Salina, I feel a'most broke down."
"Well, now, don't take on this way. My bark is worse than my bite, you know that."
"You are a kind soul at the bottom, I always knew that, and have been a true friend to us; I shall never forget you for it."
I don't know as uncle Nathan was conscious of it, but Salina's hand certainly tightened around his plump fingers.
"You were kind to her, and I want to thank you for it."
"Her! Who are you talking about?"