As if in response to that movement on his part, the woman moved towards him, and held out her two hands with an affectionate look in her eyes, in which there dwelt also some touch of entreaty.
"Who are you?" he asked, faintly, recovering his voice.
"I am Nansie," was the reply. "I recognized you, uncle, by your likeness to my dear father."
"And I recognized you," he said, "by your likeness to your dear mother. How like you are to her--how like, how like!"
"I am glad," said Nansie. "My dear father always said I was growing to resemble her more and more. Uncle, am I welcome?"
"Quite welcome. Come in."
He was himself once more; and he took her hands in his, and conducted her into his shop.
Timothy gazed at Nansie with worshipping eyes as she passed from the open, and stood gazing--for how long he knew not--until he was aroused by Mr. Loveday suddenly appearing from the shop, and calling out to him, in an agitated tone, to run for a doctor.
"No, no," cried Nansie's voice from within, "I do not need a doctor. I only fainted a moment, I was so tired. You don't know the ways of women, uncle."
"How should I," he said, rejoining her, "having so small an acquaintance with them?"