Tilly watched her grandmother as she read with breathless anxiety, and her heart sank as she noticed how serious was the expression on the reader's face as she came to the last paragraph.
"Oh, grandmother," she cried, "you do believe it may be our Smiths."
"Well, yes, my dear, I believe that it may possibly be, that's all; but it may not be, just as possibly."
"Oh, grandmother, couldn't you inquire—carefully, you know."
"No, no, my dear. If it isn't our Smiths, think what an outrage any inquiries would be; and if it is, how cruel to stir the matter up! No, we must say nothing. The girl is an innocent creature; and if this Smithson is her father, I doubt if she has been told by anybody the facts of the case,—probably there was some very different reason given her for dropping that last syllable of the name. However it may be, it would be cruel for us to show by our manner or speech any knowledge of the story; for either way, whether they are those Smithsons or not, Agnes has made a very unpleasant situation for them, and we must be good to them."
"But, grandmother, when Agnes tells other people—"
"She won't. Your little warning, by your description of the way she took it, convinces me that she won't."
"But other people read the papers, and they—"
"May not take any more notice than I did, if Agnes's spiteful suspicions are held in check."
"But if poor Peggy herself—"