But when June came down, her face was pinched and piteous; there was a
strained, pathetic look in her eyes. She snuggled up in her old attitude
on the arm of his chair, and what he said compared but poorly with the
clear, authoritative, injured statement he had thought out with much
care. His heart felt sore, as the great heart of a mother-bird feels
sore when its youngling flies and bruises its wing. His words halted, as
though he were apologizing for having at last deviated from the path of
virtue, and succumbed, in defiance of sounder principles, to his more
natural instincts.
He seemed nervous lest, in thus announcing his intentions, he should
be setting his granddaughter a bad example; and now that he came to the
point, his way of putting the suggestion that, if she didn't like it,
she could live by herself and lump it, was delicate in the extreme.'
"And if, by any chance, my darling," he said, "you found you didn't get
on--with them, why, I could make that all right. You could have what you
liked. We could find a little flat in London where you could set up,
and I could be running to continually. But the children," he added, "are
dear little things!"
Then, in the midst of this grave, rather transparent, explanation of
changed policy, his eyes twinkled.
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