The little girl lifted her eyes wistfully to the woman's face and saw a gleam of surprise and eagerness flit across it.
"I am not sure," Mrs. Price faltered, "but I think so, sir. She is very like poor Master John."
"She is his daughter; I see the likeness myself. Take her away, Mrs. Price; I entrust her to your care for the present. Consider her your guest until—until I give you further instructions."
"No, no, let me go!" Felicia implored. "Oh, let me return to Bristol to those who care for me! You do not, and I don't think you ever will. You were nicer before you knew I was your grandchild. You don't want me, and Mr. and Mrs. M'Cosh do. They love me, and they were kind to my dear, dear mother. Oh, mother, mother!" And she broke into a fit of bitter weeping.
"Come away," whispered Mrs. Price, pitying the forlorn child, and taking her gently by the hand she led her from the room, followed closely by the dog. "Don't cry, my dear, you'll find someone to love you at N—, never fear! You may take my word for that," she added as soon as she had shut the study door.
"Do you mean my grandmother?" asked Felicia, hope springing anew in her heart.
"Your grandmother? Why, my dear, she died more than three years ago. To think now that you didn't know that!"
[CHAPTER VII]
The Family at the Vicarage
"DORIS! Such news! You'll never guess what it is!" And the speaker, Molly Pring, caught her sister by the two shoulders and, in her excitement, treated her to a hearty shake, which caused her to drop the book she was reading and look at the disturber of her peace with reproachful eyes.