Clara looked to Alice.
“As well as we possibly could without our own dear mother,” said Alice. “I am glad you are come to see for yourself,” and she kissed the old lady’s pale, wrinkled cheek.
“Yes, I shall see,” replied the grandmother; and accordingly that evening and the next day were spent in the closest observation.
“See what Mr. Brentford gave me!” cried Eddie, as, returning from a walk with Clara on the following afternoon, he bounded into the room, brandishing above his head an enormous paper of bon-bons.
“Mr. Brentford was very kind, was he not?” said his mother, taking a sugar-plum which the child generously extended to her. He bestowed a similar bounty on every one in the room, and then sat down to the work of feeding himself, which he performed with extraordinary celerity, bolting the sugar-coated poison by the handful.
“There, Neddie, you have had quite enough for this time,” interposed his mother. “You will make yourself sick.”
“No, no!” cried the young gourmand, grasping his precious package with great energy, and turning away, “I want them all.”
“Not all, now—Oh, no, that would not do, at all. Bring them to me, and I will keep them for you, and give them to you when it is best for you to have them.”
Emboldened to disobedience by the presence of those whom he had never failed to conquer, the child hugged his treasure still closer, and arranged his physiognomy for a cry.
“Neddie—I want you to bring me your sweetmeats,” said Mrs. G.