"You must not think too much of what I said, my friend," said the other.
"No," returned the old man thoughtfully, "no.—Come hither, Nell."
The little girl hastened from her seat, and put her arm round his neck.
"Do I love thee, Nell?" said he. "Say, do I love thee, Nell, or no?"
The child only answered by her caresses, and laid her head upon his breast.
"Why dost thou sob?" said the grandfather, pressing her closer to him. "Is it because thou know'st that I love thee, and dost not like that I should seem to doubt it? Well, well; then let us say I love thee dearly."
"Indeed, indeed you do," replied the child. "Kit knows you do."
Kit, who in eating his bread and meat had been swallowing two-thirds of his knife at every mouthful with the coolness of a juggler, stopped short and bawled, "Nobody isn't such a fool as to say he doesn't," after which he took a huge sandwich at one bite.
"She is poor now," said the old man, patting the child's cheek, "but, I say again, the time is coming when she shall be rich. It has been a long time coming, but it must come at last. A very long time, but it surely must come. It has come to other men, who do nothing but waste time and money. When will it come to me?"
"I am very happy as I am, grandfather," said the child.