"Then she must be a friend of mine—young woman, you hear that?"
"Ah! I hear," said the stolid Ann.
"And who knows but that you, Mattie, in the better days in store for you and me, may become a worker in the vineyard also?"
"She's not going to work in any yard yet awhile, if I know it!" said Ann.
Mr. Gray rose and picked up his hat again, without paying heed to this allusion.
"I have work to do at home," he said; "I am a mechanic by trade, and have to labour to get my own living; when you are well enough, you must come to my home and make it a different place. I have much to ask you when you are better—I have been troubled about stories that have been told me of you—I am unhappy until I know the truth. You will keep nothing from me?"
Mattie did not reply; that was a matter for future consideration.
"I never allow anything to be kept from me," he said sharply; "I shall be a hard father, rely upon it. I allow nothing for prevarication, and I spare no sin or weakness, however plausible may be the excuse which the sinner offers. I—how dreadfully askew everything is on this mantel-piece!" he added suddenly, putting the few ornaments thereon at regular distances from each other; "I shall not be a kind father—I know I shan't! The mountains are not harder to move than I am—you're not frightened at me, Mattie?"
"No."
"Not sorry I have come here to claim you?"