"Ah, well!" said Fleda raising her head, "you have got quite a parcel of books, aunt Lucy, and I have a good many--how well it is I have had so many given me since I have been here!--That will make quite a nice little library, both together, and Hugh has some; I thought perhaps we shouldn't have one at all left, and that would have been rather bad."
'Rather bad'! Mrs. Rossitur looked at her, and was dumb.
"Only don't you wear a sad face for anything!" Fleda went on earnestly;--"we shall be perfectly happy if you and uncle Rolf only will be."
"My dear children!" said Mrs. Rossitur wiping her eyes,--"it is for you I am unhappy--you and your uncle;--I do not think of myself."
"And we do not think of ourselves, mamma," said Hugh.
"I know it--but having good children don't make one care less about them," said Mrs. Rossitur, the tears fairly raining over her fingers.
Hugh pulled the fingers down and again tried the efficacy of his lips.
"And you know papa thinks most of you, mamma."
"Ah, your father!"--said Mrs. Rossitur shaking her head,--"I am afraid it will go hard with him!--But I will be happy as long as I have you two, or else I should be a very wicked woman. It only grieves me to think of your education and prospects--"
"Fleda's piano, mamma!" said Hugh with sudden dismay.