Perversely reluctant, the better nature that was in Mrs. Presty
rose to the surface, forced to show itself. "Cry, Catherine," she
said kindly; "it will do you good. Leave the child to me."

With a gentleness that astonished Kitty, she led her little
granddaughter to the window, and pointed to the public walk in
front of the house. "I know what will comfort you," the wise old
woman began; "look out of the window." Kitty obeyed.

"I don't see my little friends coming," she said. Mrs. Presty
still pointed to some object on the public walk. "That's better
than nothing, isn't it?" she persisted. "Come with me to the
maid; she shall go with you, and take care of you." Kitty
whispered, "May I give mamma a kiss first?" Sensible Mrs. Presty
delayed the kiss for a while. "Wait till you come back, and then
you can tell your mamma what a treat you have had." Arrived at
the door on their way out, Kitty whispered again: "I want to say
something"--"Well, what is it?"--"Will you tell the donkey-boy to
make him gallop?"--"I'll tell the boy he shall have sixpence if
you are satisfied; and you will see what he does then." Kitty
looked up earnestly in her grandmother's face. "What a pity it is
you are not always like what you are now!" she said. Mrs. Presty
actually blushed.



Chapter XXXV.