ly at the face of
Mrs Leslie, who was seated in an arm-chair, near the drawing-room
window. "Oh, how I long to see papa, and mamma, and dear little Norman!
I have thought, and thought so much about them; and India is so far off
it seemed as if they would never reach England."

"Your mamma writes me word from Paris that they hope to cross the
Channel to-night, and be here early in the afternoon," answered Mrs
Leslie, looking at the open letter which she held in her hand. "I too
long to see your dear mamma; and had it not been for you, my own
darling, I should have missed her even more than I have done; but you
have ever been a good, obedient, loving child, and my greatest comfort
during her absence."

Mrs Leslie, as she spoke, drew her grandchild towards her, and kissed
her brow.

Fanny said nothing, but, pressing the hand which held hers, turned her
eyes towards her grandmamma's face, while the consciousness that the
praise was not wrongly bestowed, caused a bright gleam of pleasure to
pass over her countenance.

Mrs Leslie, who had brought up Fanny from her infancy, lived in a
pretty villa a few miles from London, surrounded by shrubberies, with a
lawn and beautifully-kept flower-garden in front. On one side was a
poultry-yard, over which Fanny presided as the reigning sovereign; and
even Trusty, the spaniel, who considered himself if not the ruler at all
events the guardian of the rest of the premises, when he ventured into
her domain always followed humbly at her heels, never presuming to
interfere with her feathered subjects. More than once he had been known
to turn tail and fly as if for his life when Phoebe, the bantam hen,
with extended neck and outspread wings had run after him, as he had by
chance approached nearer to her brood of fledglings than she had
approved of.

Fanny with her fowls, Trusty, and Kitty, the tortoiseshell cat; and her
doll, which had a house of its own fitted with furniture; and, more than
all, with the consciousness of her granny's affection, considered
herself one of the happiest little girls in existence. Everybody in the
house, indeed, loved her; and she was kind, and gentle, and loving to
every one in return.

Her mamma--Mrs Leslie's only daughter--had married Captain Vallery, an
officer in the Indian army, while he was at home on leave, and had
accompanied him to the East. She returned three or four years
afterwards, in consequence of ill health, bringing with her little