"I need not go back to—to a painful experience that we both remember."
Miss Lydia put her head on one side in a puzzled way, as if her memory had failed her.
"You will know that I appreciated your attitude at that time. I appreciated it deeply."
Miss Lydia rolled her handkerchief into a wabbly lamplighter; she seemed to have nothing to say.
"I have come here now, not merely to tell you this, but to add that I intend to relieve you of the care of—ah, the little boy."
Miss Lydia was silent.
"There are things I should like to give him. He says he wants a pony. And I mean to educate him. It would seem strange to do this as an outsider; it might cause—ah, comment. So I am going to take him."
"Any grandfather would want to," said Lydia Sampson.
Mr. Smith raised his bushy eyebrows. "Well, we won't put it on that ground. But I like the boy, though I hear he gets into fights; I'm afraid he has the devil of a temper," said Mr. Smith, chuckling proudly. "But I've watched him, and he's no coward and no fool, either. In fact, I hear that he is a wonder mathematically. God knows where he got his brains! Well, I am going to adopt him. But that will make no difference in your income. That is assured to you as long as you live. I am indebted to you, Miss Sampson. Profoundly indebted."
"Not at all," said Miss Lydia.