Drusilla, with her quick perceptions and warm sympathies, read the hearts of all around, and wished to make them happy.
Like an artful little angel as she was, she chose her opportunity well.
It was a lovely day in the latter part of April, and General Lyon and herself were sitting alone together in a front parlor where windows opened upon a conservatory in full bloom.
Dick and Anna were gone on a visit of inspection of the works at Hammond House.
The General had little Leonard in his arms.
Drusilla was sewing beside them.
“Ah, my dear, you do not know how much this little fellow adds to my happiness!” he said.
“I am always so glad and grateful to hear you say that, dear uncle, and I hope little Leonard as he grows in intelligence will be more and more of a comfort to you,” she replied; and then, after a little pause, she said:
“But if little Leonard, who is only my son, gives you so much content, how much joy Anna’s children will give you!”
“I don’t know, my dear: and, besides, I may not live to see them.”