of talking?" and
Mrs. Mittens sighed.

"Did you know my father, ma'am?"

"Yes, indeed! I carried him about in my arms many a time."

"Did you love him, please?"

"Love him, Miss Agnes? _that_ I did! Who could help loving his bright
bonnie face? Why, we all loved him, dearie: he was the light and life of
the house, but he would have his own way--he would have it, and I fear
it led him through a tangled, thorny path."

Agnes looked up at Mrs. Mittens.

"Please, please tell me one thing more, ma'am," she whispered nervously,
yet eagerly. "Did my Uncle Hugh love my father?"

"As the apple of his eye, my dearie: there's no mistake about that; he
would have given his heart's best blood for him!"

"Did he know my dear father was so sad and so sorry, so poor, so
friendless, so--so unhappy?"

"No, child, that he did not. Your father would have none of him; he was
proud with the pride that goes before destruction. My master would have
loved him, but Master Frank would not."

"Then there has been some dreadful mistake somewhere, ma'am," Agnes said
gently, but firmly. "My father was an angel and a martyr. He was not
proud or unforgiving, and he suffered, oh, so much! But if you tell me
my uncle knew nothing of it, I cannot blame him."

"I tell you more, dearie," said the old housekeeper earnestly, holding
both the child's hands, and looking into her pale, earnest face. "My
master would have given half his fortune to have made your father happy,
but the wrong was done before you were born; and it's righted at last,
thank Heaven! righted at last. Now, my poor lamb, we will talk of all
those things no more; your troubles are over, and all you have to do is
to get well and strong and rosy, and be as happy as ever you can; and
always remember, little one, you have a true friend in old Mittens. She
loved your father, and she will always love you; and now you must lie
down on that sofa, and rest for an hour. The boys are sure to be in for
dinner, and I want you to be nice and bright."

[Illustration: "AGNES LOOKED UP AT MRS. MITTENS" (_p. 35_).]

So Agnes lay down very contentedly.

"Oh, how I shall enjoy this place!" she said to herself. "How I shall
love it!--my own father's home, where he played as a child. Perhaps he
lay on this sofa, just like me, and looked across the beautiful park,
smelt the flowers, heard the birds sing. If he knew I was here now, how
happy he would be!" So Agnes mused aloud, resting in the warm