By this time Fanny, Jessie, and I had sunk in a little heap on the floor. How pretty she looked, this girl grandmother! Her dark curls clung so daintily around her olive face, and the dark eyes shone out from the shaded brow with such a clear, honest light. We fancied we could see the red lips move, and the creamy white dress, with its bit of a waist and short puffy sleeves, tremble with the beating of her heart. Our own almost ceased to beat when she resumed.
"Fanny, Bessie, Jessie, you are dear girls, though I fear you are going to lack nobility and dignity of character; but what can be expected of girls that are taught French instead of their catechism, and the waltz in place of the minuet! Really, girls, I never screamed in my life—not even when a shell from a man-of-war burst in front of our house; and I must say I never witnessed such a romp as this among boys and girls in all the eighty-five years that I lived."
Eighty-five years! We looked from our Little Grandmother to each other in astonishment, and then the voice went on:
"But girls are not as they used to be, and perhaps they can not be. The world is growing weaker and wiser, and you have more already in your little noddles than I ever learned from books. I did not mean to scold you, my dears, but I have often wished to give you a bit of advice, and I have never had so fine an opportunity as this. If the great-grandsons of Mary Angela Bascombe are knightly men, brave, tender, and true, and her great-granddaughters are ladies, indeed, gracious, gentle, loyal, and loving, she will be grateful for the happy misfortune that sent her to the attic."
There was a long silence. Then Fanny drew a long breath, and each one of us immediately did the same. Ned, always the leader, stepped forward a little, and said, "Little Grandmother, we mean, you know, to be all right—but—but—"
"And we'll do our best after this; indeed we will," added Jamie.
"That's so," put in Phil, rather awkwardly.
"We love, you, Little Grandmother!" burst out Fanny—clasping her hands—in a little ecstasy, while Jessie and I murmured something in chorus about wishing to be like her; but there was no response from the portrait to anything that we said.
We had not noticed that the dim light was fading from the attic, and the portrait losing its outlines, until the sound of a bell below recalled us to outward things. Then, clutching each other as we went, we passed down the attic stairs and through the halls, and gathered in a very quiet knot in the tea-room. One by one the family gathered there also, and the seats around the long table were quietly filled.
"What is the matter with you youngsters?" said my father, scanning our faces keenly. "You are as mute as mice, and look as if you had seen your grandmother's ghost."