"Why,—I do believe you're crying, Auntie Anthea, an' why are you here—all alone, an' by yourself?"
"I was listening to the Black-bird, dear,—I never heard him sing quite so—beautifully, before."
"But black-birds don't make people cry,—an' I know you've been crying—'cause you sound—all quivery, you know."
"Do I, Georgy?"
"Yes,—is it 'cause you feel—lonely?"
"Yes dear."
"You've cried an awful lot, lately, Auntie Anthea."
"Have I, dear?"
"Yes,—an' it—worries me, you know."
"I'm afraid I've been a great responsibility to you, Georgy dear," said she with a rueful little laugh.