looked anxious and ill at ease, I went on, "I do not think you need
trouble about Flurry's precocity; children often say these things.
Dot, my little brother--Frankie, I mean--would astonish you with some
of his remarks. And then there was Jack," warming up with my subject;
"Jack used to talk about harps and angels in the most heavenly way,
till mother cried and thought she would die young; and look at Jack
now--a strong healthy girl, without an ounce of imagination." I could
see Mr. Lucas smile quietly to himself in the dusk, for he knew Jack,
and had made more than one quizzical remark on her; but I think my
observation comforted him a little, for he said no more, only when
Flurry returned he took her on his knees and told her about a
wonderful performing poodle he had seen, as a sort of pleasant
interlude after her severe Biblical studies.




CHAPTER XIII.

"WE HAVE MISSED DAME BUSTLE."


One other conversation lingered long in my memory, and it took place
on my last evening at the Cedars. On the next day I was going home to
mother and Dot, and yet I sighed! Oh, Esther, for shame!

It was just before dinner. Miss Ruth had been summoned away to see
an old servant of the family, and Flurry had run after her. Mr. Lucas
was standing before the fire, warming himself after the manner of
Englishmen, and I sat at Miss Ruth's little table working at a fleecy