same reason and no other.

"Cynthy, let's have some of those roast apples," said Mr.
Ringgan, "and a couple of bowls of milk here."

"No, I'll get the apples myself, Cynthy," said Fleda.

"And you needn't take any of the cream off, Cynthy," added Mr.
Ringgan.

One corner of the kitchen table was hauled up to the fire, to
be comfortable, Fleda said, and she and her grandfather sat
down on the opposite sides of it to do honour to the apples
and milk; each with the simple intent of keeping up
appearances and cheating the other into cheerfulness. There
is, however, deny it who can, an exhilarating effect in good
wholesome food taken when one is in some need of it; and Fleda
at least found the supper relish exceeding well. Every one
furthermore knows the relief of a hearty flow of tears when a
secret weight has been pressing on the mind. She was just
ready for anything reviving. After the third mouthful she
began to talk, and before the bottom of the bowls was reached,
she had smiled more than once. So her grandfather thought no
harm was done, and went to bed quite comforted; and Fleda
climbed the steep stairs that led from his door to her little
chamber just over his head. It was small and mean, immediately
under the roof, with only one window. There were plenty of
better rooms in the house, but Fleda liked this because it
kept her near her grandfather; and indeed she had always had
it ever since her father's death, and never thought of taking