"Well, I don't ezackly know, miss," answered the child, looking up, very white-faced and serious.
"Put the book away and come and see grannie. She wants you to take care of her to-day, while I go out."
"Well, miss, I would with pleasure; but you see father is gone out, and has left me to take care of the shop till he comes back."
"But he won't be gone a great while, will he?"
"No, miss. He knows I don't like to be left too long with the books. He'll be back before St. Jacob's strikes nine—that I know."
"Well, then, I'll go and get grannie made comfortable; and if you don't come to me by half-past nine, I'll come after you again."
"Do, miss, if you please; for if father ain't come by that time—my poor head—"
"You must put that ugly book away," said Lucy, "and take a better one."
"Well, miss, I know I oughtn't to have taken this book, for there's no summer in it; and it talks like the wind at night."
"Why did you take it, then?"