The
little child was so merry, yet withal so gentle and sweet-tempered, that
she kept him in a state of unwearied delight, without any alloy of
anxiety or trouble. She trotted at his side with short, running
footsteps, when he went out early in the morning to fetch his daily stock
of newspapers. She watched him set his room tidy, and made believe to
help him by dusting the legs and seats of his two chairs. She stood with
folded hands and serious face, looking on as he was busy with his
cooking. When she was not thus engaged she played contentedly with Beppo,
prattling to him in such a manner, that Oliver often forgot what he was
about while listening to her. She played with him, too, frolicsome little
games of hide-and-seek, in which he grew as eager as herself; and
sometimes she stole his spectacles, or handkerchief, or anything she
could lay her mischievous fingers upon to hide away in some unthought-of
spot; while her shrewd, cunning little face put on an expression of
profound gravity as old Oliver sought everywhere for them.
As Friday evening drew near, the old man's gladness took a shade of
anxiety. His daughter was coming home to him, and his heart was full of
unutterable joy and gratitude; but he did not know exactly how they
should go on in the future.
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