But this
little daughter is always available, always my 'cricket on the
hearth.'"
As he spoke, her father drew Nan closer, kissed her tranquil face, and
smiled content.
"Well, if ever I see picters, I see 'em now, and I declare to goodness
it's as interestin' as play-actin', every bit. Miss Di, with all them
boughs in her head, looks like the Queen of Sheby, when she went
a-visitin' What's-his-name; and if Miss Laura a'n't as sweet as a
lally-barster figger, I should like to know what is."
In her enthusiasm, Sally gambolled about the girls, flourishing her
milk-pan like a modern Miriam about to sound her timbrel for excess of
joy.
Laughing merrily, the two Mont Blancs bestowed themselves in the
family ark, Nan hopped up beside Patrick, and Solon, roused from his
lawful slumbers, morosely trundled them away. But, looking backward
with a last "Good night!" Nan saw her father still standing at the
door with smiling countenance, and the moonlight falling like a
benediction on his silver hair.
"Betsey shall go up the hill with you, my dear, and here's a basket of
eggs for your father. Give him my love, and be sure you let me know
the next time he is poorly," Mrs. Lord said, when her guest rose to
depart, after an hour of pleasant chat.
But Nan never got the gift; for, to her great dismay, her hostess
dropped the basket with a crash, and flew across the room to meet a
tall shape pausing in the shadow of the door. There was no need to ask
who the new-comer was; for, even in his mother's arms, John looked
over her shoulder with an eager nod to Nan, who stood among the ruins
with never a sign of weariness in her face, nor the memory of a care
at her heart,--for they all went out when John came in.
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