"I am ready," Una replied as she rose to her feet; then she turned to Mrs. Maple and asked coaxingly: "May I see the little lamb whose mother died?"
"Surely, my dear," was the ready answer. "Father, will you show them the lamb, or shall I?"
"I will, Mary."
The old man arose, and after a few farewell words to Mrs. Maple, Nanny and Una followed him into the yard. He led the way to an outhouse, and on opening the door the little lamb skipped out. It was quite tame, and Una was delighted to pat its curly back and stroke the inquisitive nose it pushed into her hand.
It was with difficulty that Nanny at last bore her young charge away, insisting that she really must go home.
After their departure, Mr. Norris returned to his daughter, and found her eager to talk of their visitors.
"Mr. Manners is an artist!" she exclaimed. "Mrs. Gray—Nanny as they call her at Coombe Villa—has been telling me all about him. She says he is a very popular, successful man, a good father, and a kind master. He lost his young wife soon after little Miss Una was born. Doesn't she seem a sweet little thing?"
"Yes," the old man agreed, smiling, "she does. She asked if she might call me Granfer."
"What a strange idea! I heard her chattering away to you; she is not in the least shy!"
Mr. Norris sat down in his accustomed seat again, whilst his daughter flitted in and out of the kitchen. He was thinking how Una had said: "I suppose you pray to God about him, don't you?" And realising for the first time that though he called himself a Christian, he had harboured angry, bitter thoughts against his only son for fifteen long years, had spoken of him with hard words, had blamed him as undutiful, and had never once mentioned his name to the great Father of all.