"Oh, no, of course! I suppose not. And it doesn't take anything at all to make the tears come in her eyes; the other day I didn't know whether to laugh or be vexed at the way she went on with a kitten, for half an hour or more. I wish you had seen her! I am not sure she didn't cry over that. Now I suppose the next thing, brother, you will go and make her a present of one."
"If you have no heavier charges to bring," said Mr. Lindsay, smiling, "I'll take breath and think about it."
"But she isn't like anybody else she don't care for young companions she don't seem to fancy any one out of the family unless it is old Mrs. Allen, and she is absurd about her. You know she is not very well lately, and Ellen goes to see her, I know, every day regularly; and there are the Gordons, and Carpenters, and Murrays, and M'Intoshes she sees them continually, but I don't think she takes a great deal of pleasure in their company. The fact is, she is too sober."
"She has as sweet a smile as I ever saw," said Mr. Lindsay, "and as hearty a laugh, when she does laugh; she is none of your gigglers."
"But when she does laugh," said Lady Keith, "it is not when other people do. I think she is generally grave when there is most merriment around her."
"I love to hear her laugh," said Mrs. Lindsay; "it is in such a low, sweet tone, and seems to come so from the very spring of enjoyment. Yet, I must say, I think Catherine is half right."
"With half an advocate," said Lady Keith, "I shall not effect much."
Mr. Lindsay uttered a low whistle. At this moment the door opened, and Ellen came gravely in, with a book in her hand.
"Come here, Ellen," said Mr. Lindsay holding out his hand "here's your aunt says you don't like anybody how is it? are you of an unsociable disposition?"
Ellen's smile would have been a sufficient apology to him for a much graver fault.