"Do tell me!" said Christian suddenly. "Did granny give her dinner to a sick person at the opposite side of the street?"
Mr. Mitford laughed. His dark eyes fixed themselves on Christian's animated face. He stepped up to her, and putting his hand under her chin, looked down at the speaking, bright features.
"You are like her," he said, with a sigh, "the same eyes, the same determined chin, the same expression. Well, my child, I can wish you nothing better than to be as good as your grandmother."
"But tell me about the dinner, father."
Mr. Mitford laughed; then his face grew grave.
"We kept a most perfect cook, for your grandmother was singularly particular with regard to her food. She had a very small appetite, but she always wanted the very best prepared for her, and she could not worry herself about ordering her own food; she liked it to come as a surprise. Now, Adams suited your grandmother's palate to perfection. Day by day the most delicious little dinners were served up. Well, one evening, I don't exactly know how she discovered it, but your grandmother happened to know that there was a poor lady in the opposite house who refused to eat anything. She was poor, and the house she lived in was nothing like as large and expensive as ours. Your grandmother feared that Mrs. Stirling had not a cook to her taste, so that evening she sent her own special dinner to her. When she found she liked it she sent it again every night."
"But why couldn't she have more dinner cooked for the sick woman?" interrupted Christian.
"Ah, that was the point. Adams would only prepare this very special and choice dinner for your grandmother. She could not be worried to do it for anyone else. Had your grandmother told her that the special meals were to go to Mrs. Stirling they would not have been worth eating, so she gave her own dinner and went hungry. The thing lasted for three weeks."
"And then?" asked Christian.
"Mrs. Stirling died. The people said afterwards that your grandmother's dinners kept her alive for ten days, and that she enjoyed them so much that she used to think about them all day long until they came. The thing was just like your dear old grandmother; she was an oddity, but most unselfish."