Grandmother rang the bell, and sent for all the morning papers. When
they were brought her, she put on her spectacles and began the search
for "Smithson, alias Smith." One, two, three papers she searched
through; and at last there it was,--"Smithson, alias Smith!"

Tilly watched her grandmother as she read with breathless anxiety, and
her heart sank as she noticed how serious was the expression on the
reader's face as she came to the last paragraph.

"Oh, grandmother," she cried, "you do believe it may be our Smiths."

"Well, yes, my dear, I believe that it may possibly be, that's all; but
it may not be, just as possibly."

"Oh, grandmother, couldn't you inquire--carefully, you know."

"No, no, my dear. If it isn't our Smiths, think what an outrage any
inquiries would be; and if it is, how cruel to stir the matter up! No,
we must say nothing. The girl is an innocent creature; and if this
Smithson is her father, I doubt if she has been told by anybody the
facts of the case,--probably there was some very different reason given
her for dropping that last syllable of the name. However it may be, it
would be cruel for us to show by our manner or speech any knowledge of
the story; for either way, whether they are those Smithsons or not,
Agnes has made a very unpleasant situation for them, and we must be good
to them."

"But, grandmother, when Agnes tells other people--"

"She won't. Your little warning, by your description of the way she took