Stretton, Hesba, 1832-1911 / 2008-06-07 00:00:00
OLD OLIVER'S MASTER.
Very early in the morning, before the tardy daylight could creep into the
darkened room, old Oliver was up and busy. He had been in the habit of
doing for himself, as he called it, ever since his daughter had forsaken
him, and he was by nature fastidiously clean and neat. But now there
would be additional duties for him during the next three days; for there
would be Dolly to wash, and dress, and provide breakfast for. Every few
minutes he stole a look at her lying still asleep; and as soon as he
discovered symptoms of awaking, he hastily lifted Beppo on to the bed,
that her opening eyes should be greeted by some familiar sight. She
stretched out her wonderful little hands, and caught hold of the dog's
rough head before venturing to lift her eyelids, while Oliver looked on
in speechless delight. At length she ventured to peep slyly at him, and
then addressed herself to Beppo.
"What am I to call ris funny old man, Beppo?" she asked.
"I am your grandpa, my darling," said Oliver, in his softest voice.
"Are you God-bless-gan-pa?" inquired Dolly, sitting up on her pillow, and
staring very hard with her blue eyes into his wrinkled face.
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