Mr. Smith took up the flowers and looked at them as if he was trying to discover how they were made, so intently were his eyes bent upon them.
"Mother says we are like daisies, sometimes," said Janet merrily.
"How?" asked the old man.
The child coloured, and did not answer; but Mrs. Shipton replied for her,—"Because whenever I am gloomy and unhappy, these children brighten me and cheer me by looking up to the sun; they always find out a sunny side to my troubles."
Mr. Smith laid his hand lightly on Janet's head, and said, "I have learnt many things since I came to London, but I did not know that I should find country flowers in this large, wicked place."
"We value them more because they are not plenty, and because we have not many other things," said Mrs. Shipton.
"Ay, ay—well, can town daisies be transplanted, think you?"
Ellen looked wonderingly at the old man, for she saw that his eyes were fixed on Janet with a meaning smile, but the little girl herself seemed quite unconscious of it, and answered quickly, "If you have plenty of flowers in the country, you don't want them."
The strange lodger laughed, but it was a rather sad laugh. "I do want them," he answered; and then, after pausing for a minute or two, he went on abruptly, "Mrs. Shipton, I've been a month with you, haven't I?"
"Yes, sir."