talking about her. She had lived among older people so entirely that
her thoughts were much deeper than her baby speeches would lead one to
suppose.

She understood dimly, from what she had heard the servants say, that
there was some trouble between her mother and grandfather. Now she heard
it rehearsed from beginning to end. She could not understand what
they meant by "bank failures" and "unfortunate investments," but she
understood enough to know that her father had lost nearly all his money,
and had gone West to make more.

Mrs. Sherman had moved from their elegant New York home two weeks ago
to this little cottage in Lloydsborough that her mother had left her.
Instead of the houseful of servants they used to have, there was only
faithful Mom Beck to do everything.

There was something magnetic in the child's eyes.

Mrs. Wyford shrugged her shoulders uneasily as she caught their piercing
gaze fixed on her.

"I do believe that little witch understood every word I said," she
exclaimed.

"Oh, certainly not," was the reassuring answer. "She's such a little
thing."

But she had heard it all, and understood enough to make her vaguely
unhappy. Going home she did not frisk along with Fritz, but walked
soberly by Mom Beck's side, holding tight to the friendly black hand.