"I haven't seemed to thank you enough, sir, for what you have done to-night, but I do thank you, humbly and heartily; and so does she, and her thanks are worth more than mine. I should be sorry that you went away and thought I was unmindful of your goodness, or careless of her; I am not, indeed."
The Old Gentleman said he was sure of that from what he had seen. "But," he added, "may I ask you a question?"
"Ay, sir," replied the old man; "what is it?"
"This delicate child," said the other, "with so much beauty and brightness—has she nobody to care for her but you?"
"No," he returned, looking anxiously into the other's face, "no, and she wants no other."
Seeing that he seemed excited and impatient, the visitor turned to put on an outer coat which he had thrown off on entering the room, meaning to say no more. He was surprised to see the child standing by with a cloak upon her arm, and in her hand a hat and stick.
"Those are not mine, my dear," said the visitor.
"No," returned the child quietly, "they are grandfather's."
"But he is not going out to-night."
"Oh yes, he is," said the child with a smile.