"Why, I thought I told you last fall, at Parson Grey's, in some of our talks about former days."
"No; you said he was employed in some printing establishment at the east, that was all."
"Well, I intended to have mentioned the rest; but what makes you look so earnest and rosy, Annie?"
"O, nothing!" she answered; "I was only thinking."
"Frank has written to me, recently, a letter of sympathy and condolence, and says he will visit the west this summer," the old man continued, paring an orange. "I was going to make him my sole heir, but now I've found you, I believe I shall curtail him and take you in for a share."
"O, you had better not!" she exclaimed quickly.
"And why better not, child?"
"Because he is more deserving your generosity than I."
"More deserving? No, indeed, Annie. But see how nicely I have peeled this orange for you," passing it to her.
"For me, uncle! You had better eat it yourself."