"Don't, dear grandpa," said Fleda, stealing her other arm round his neck
and hiding her face there,--"please don't!--"

He very much regretted that he had said too much. He did not however know
exactly how to mend it. He kissed her and stroked her soft hair, but that
and the manner of it only made it more difficult for Fleda to recover
herself, which she was struggling to do; and when he tried to speak in
accents of 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 won't!" 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."