his heart, and she held out her hand with a smile; for
he seemed to have turned directly to her for his answer. He grasped
her hand eagerly.

"There!" he exclaimed, with an almost child-like pleasure. "There is
George's daughter, every inch. We understand each other, eh? Good
girl. We shall be friends, eh? I'm a friend--not a rich old uncle,
who'll give you what you want, if you manage him right. That's it, you
understand? Now, this is pleasant--this is honest. Be independent, my
dear. Don't expect anything of me. I tell you--if I thought that it
was only thoughts of my money that bought your good-will, I'd give the
last cent of it away to-morrow."

He got up, evidently well satisfied, and still retaining Nancy's hand
in his. The other he held out to Mrs. Prescott, who took it, with a
constrained smile; and then, in high good-humor he pinched Alma's
dimpled chin playfully.

"Good-day! Good-day! I'm glad I came. We'll know each other better
after a while. We understand each other, eh? The hatchet is buried,
eh? Good. It's a piece of business I've been putting off for a long
while. Tut-tut! Where's my umbrella?"

The three Prescotts stood at the window, staring with varying feelings
at the stooped, but surprisingly agile old figure that walked off
through the rain and fog, head down, the worn velvet collar of his old
coat hunched around his neck--and with never a look behind. Then, all
at once, both Alma and Nancy broke out laughing.

"You seemed to get along with him beautifully," chuckled Alma.
"Goodness, he scared me out of my five wits--so that I couldn't
understand a word he was saying. I couldn't tell you for the life of
me what he was talking about. I think he must be crazy. But he
doesn't seem so bad at all. At times he even looked rather nice."

"Why, I believe he _is_ nice," said Nancy. "He's a funny, eccentric
old man, but I'm sure that he'd be rather a dear, if he doesn't think
that we are trying to 'manage' him as he says."

Mrs. Prescott was silent, her pretty face frowning a little. Nancy
looked at her a moment, and then putting her arms around her, rubbed
her own ruddy cheek against her mother's pink one.

"Put yourself in his place, Mother," she said gently. "He's very
lonely--he wants to be friendly--he was thinking of Father all the
time, you know. But he has a horror of our being affectionate with him
just for the sake of his money. Imagine what it would be to b