cheering, his voice trembled. Fleda's heart was breaking, but
she felt that she was making matters worse, and she had
already concluded, on a mature review of circumstances, that
it was her duty to be cheerful. So, after a few very heartfelt
tears which she could not help, she raised her head and
smiled, even while she wiped the traces of them away.

"After all, grandpa," said she, "perhaps Mr. Jolly will come
here in the morning with some good news, and then we should be
troubling ourselves just for nothing."

"Perhaps he will," said Mr. Ringgan, in a way that sounded
much more like "Perhaps he wont!" But Fleda was determined now
not to _seem_ discouraged again. She thought the best way was to
change the conversation.

"It is very kind in aunt Lucy, isn't it, grandpa, what she has
written to me?"

"Why, no," said Mr. Ringgan, decidedly; "I can't say I think
it is any very extraordinary manifestation of kindness in
anybody to want you."

Fleda smiled her thanks for this compliment.

"It might be a kindness in me to give you to her."

"It wouldn't be a kindness to me, grandpa."

"I don't know about that," said he, gravely. They were getting