“Yes,” said Katy.
“Was he tall and handsome, with black hair and whiskers?”
“Oh, so handsome,” replied Katy, with sparkling eyes.
“Did he live at a place called ‘The Glen,’ just out of the city?”
“Yes,” said Katy.
“My child, my poor child,” said the gentleman, taking her up in his arms and pushing back her hair from her face; “yes, here is papa’s brow, and his clear, blue eyes, Katy. I used to know your dear papa.”
“Yes?” said Katy, with a bright, glad smile.
“I used to go to his counting-house to talk to him on business, and I learned to love him very much, too. I never saw your mamma, though I often heard him speak of her. In a few hours, dear, I am going to sail off on the great ocean, else I would go home with you and see your mamma. Where do you live, Katy?”
“In —— court,” said the child. The gentleman colored and started, then putting his hand in his pocket and drawing out something that looked like paper, slipped it into little Katy’s bag, saying, with delicate tact, “Tell your mamma, my dear, that is something I owed your dear papa; mind you carry it home safely; now give me a good-bye kiss, and may God forever bless you, my darling.”
Little Katy stood shading her eyes with her hand till the gentleman was out of sight; it was so nice to see somebody who “loved papa;” and then she wondered why her grandfather never spoke so to her about him; and then she wished the kind gentleman were her grandpapa; and then she wondered what it was he had put in the bag for mamma; and then she recollected that her mamma told her “not to loiter;” and then she quickened her tardy little feet.