"Nothing has happened," he answers, trying to smile, but I see that it is quite against the grain, "only that I have had some not very pleasant news."
"It is not any thing about—about the Brat!" cry I, stopping suddenly, seizing his arm with both hands, and turning, as I feel, extremely pale, while my thoughts fly to the only one of my beloveds that is out of my sight.
"About the Brat!" he echoes in surprise, "oh, dear no! nothing!"
"Then I do not much care who is dead?" I answer, unfeelingly, drawing a long breath; "he is the only person out of this house whose death would afflict me much, and I do not think that there is any one besides us that you are very devoted to, is there?"
"Why are you so determined that some one is dead?" he asks, smiling again, but this time a little more naturally; "is there nothing vexatious in the world but death?"
"Yes," say I, laughing, despite myself, as my thoughts revert to my late employment, "there are puff-balls!"—then, ashamed of having been flippant, and afraid of having been unsympathetic, I add hastily: "I wish you would tell me what it is! I am sure, when I hear, I shall be vexed too; but you see as long as I do not know what it is, I cannot, can I?"
"There is no time now," he says, glancing toward father, whose head appears through the dining-room windows. "See! they are going to breakfast!—afterward I will tell you—afterward—and child—" (putting his hands on my shoulders, and essaying to look at me with an altogether cheered and careless face,) "do not you worry your head about it!—eat your breakfast with an easy mind; after all, it is nothing very bad!—it could not be any thing very bad, as long as—." He stops abruptly, and adds hastily, "let us have a look at your mushrooms! well, you have a quantity!"
"Yes, have not I?" say I, triumphantly, "more than any of them, except Tou Tou—." Then, not quite satisfied with the impression our late talk has left upon me: "General!" say I, lowering my face and reddening, "I hope you do not think that I am quite a baby because I like childish things—gathering mushrooms—running about with the boys—talking to Jacky. I can understand serious things too, I assure you. I think I could enter into your trouble—I think, if you gave me the chance, that you would find that I could!"
Then a sort of idiotic false shame overtakes me, and without waiting for his answer I disappear.