Mrs. Dainty was about starting forward to grasp the child’s arm and constrain obedience, when Uncle John held her back, whispering,—
“Patience! patience! Remember that you are now dealing with a diseased mind instead of a healthy one. There is something wrong about the child, and, if you love her, be prudent.”
“You deal in riddles,” said Mrs. Dainty, yielding to the constraining force of Uncle John. “Disobedience, it strikes me, is a disease that should be dealt with promptly.” She spoke in a whisper.
“Madeline!” There was a winning tenderness in the old man’s voice that found its way to the child’s heart, for she moved toward Uncle John and grasped his outstretched hand. The moment she felt its warm pressure, she shrunk close to his side, while a pleasant change in her young face revealed the change which had come over her spirit.
“I want you in the library,” said Mrs. Dainty, firmly. She did not think it right to let the child have her own way.
“Come,” Uncle John spoke, cheerfully; and moving away, Madeline followed without resistance.
But Mrs. Dainty failed altogether in awakening an interest in the child’s mind. Uncle John, thinking it best to leave them alone for a time, withdrew from the library. The mother, on whose mind a pressure of concern had fallen, took down a large volume of natural history, filled with costly engravings, and, opening it on a table, drew Madeline’s attention to the pictures.
“Isn’t this beautiful?” she said, pausing over a group of exquisitely-colored birds.
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the child, in a tone that betrayed an entire lack of interest.
“Humming-birds! Oh, how beautiful!” The tones of Mrs. Dainty’s voice were animated. “This one with golden wings and emerald-green bosom is like the darling wee bird we saw this spring, fluttering among the honeysuckle-leaves in the garden. Isn’t it sweet?”