The young man gave a loving glance at Alison's sunny head as it rested on the table. His inclination was to go up to her, take her head between his hands, raise the tearful face, kiss the tears away, and, in short, take the fortress by storm. But Grannie's presence prevented this, and Alison would not once look up. The old woman gave him an intelligent and hopeful glance, and he was obliged to be content with it and hurry off.
"I'll come again next Tuesday to get my answer," he said.
Alison murmured something which he did not hear. The next instant he had left the room.
The moment his footsteps had died away Alison raised her tearful face.
"You had no right to do it, Grannie," she said. "It was sort of encouraging him."
"Dry your tears now, child," said Mrs. Reed. "We'll talk of this later on."
"You said yourself I'd have no proper pride to marry Jim at present," continued the girl.
"We'll talk of this later on," said Grannie; "the children will be home in a minute to tea. After tea you and me will talk it over while they are learning their lessons."
Grannie could be very immovable and determined when she liked. Having lived with her all her life, Alison knew her every mood. She perceived now, by her tightly shut up lips, and the little compression, which was scarcely a frown, between her brows, that she could get nothing more out of her at present.
She prepared the tea, therefore; and when the children came in she cut bread and margerine for them, for butter had long ago ceased to appear on Grannie's board.