"I declare!" said the old gentleman after a moment, "that's not a bad thought. I wonder I didn't have it myself."
They turned about, and without any more words measured back their way to Queechy Run. Mr. Jolly came out again, brisk and alert as ever; but after seeming to rack his brains in search of any actual or possible money-lender was obliged to confess that it was in vain; he could not think of one.
"But I'll tell you what, Mr. Ringgan," he concluded, "I'll turn it over in my mind to-night and see if I can think of any thing that'll do, and if I can I'll let you know. If we hadn't such a nether millstone to deal with, it would be easy enough to work it somehow."
So they set forth homewards again.
"Cheer up, dear!" said the old gentleman heartily, laying one hand on his little granddaughter's lap,--"it will be arranged somehow. Don't you worry your little head with business. God will take care of us."
"Yes, grandpa!" said the little girl, looking up with an instant sense of relief at these words; and then looking down again immediately to burst into tears.
Chapter II.
Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
Before rude hands have touch'd it?
Ha' you mark'd but the fall o' the snow,
Before the soil hath smutch'd it?
Ben Jonson.
Where a ray of light can enter the future, a child's hope can find a way--a way that nothing less airy and spiritual can travel. By the time they reached their own door Fleda's spirits were at par again.