The assumed surprise was in danger of breaking down.
"Not well, Mercy—is that it?"
He took her head between his hard old hands, and stroked her hair as tenderly as a mother might have done.
"Oh, yes, father; quite well, quite."
Then there was a little forced laugh. The lucent eyes were full of a dewy wistfulness.
"Any trouble, Mercy?"
"What trouble, father?"
"Nay, any trouble—trouble's common, isn't it?"
The old man's voice shook slightly, and his hand trembled on the girl's head.
"What have I to trouble me!" said Mercy, in a low voice nigh to breaking.