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

"I don't know about that," said he gravely. They were getting back to the
old subject. Fleda made another great effort at a diversion.

"Grandpa, was my father like my uncle Rossitur in any thing?"

The diversion was effected.

"Not he, dear!" said Mr. Ringgan. "Your father had ten times the man in
him that ever your uncle was."

"Why what kind of a man is uncle Rossitur, grandpa?"

"Ho dear! I can't tell. I ha'n't seen much of him. I wouldn't judge a man
without knowing more of him than I do of Mr. Rossitur. He seemed an
amiable kind of man. But no one would ever have thought of looking at him,
no more than at a shadow, when your father was by."

The diversion took effect on Fleda herself now. She looked up pleased.

"You remember your father, Fleda?"

"Yes grandpa, but not very well always;--I remember a great many
things about him, but I can't remember exactly how he looked,--except
once or twice."

"Ay, and he wa'n't well the last time you remember him. But he was a
noble-looking man--in form and face too--and his looks were the worst part