Part 17 (1/2)

She was sitting during those reflections with her face buried in her hands, and presently was startled by the sound of a little voice behind her.

”What's the matter?” it said.

It was Daisy Oswald, who had come through the garden, and now stood on the bridge close to her, a basket of eggs in her hand, and her childish, freckled face full of wonder and sympathy.

Generally, Anna would have been ashamed to be seen in distress, and would have tried to hide it, but now she was too miserable to mind anything. She hid her face in her hands again, without answering Daisy's question.

”Has some one been cross?” inquired Daisy at last.

Anna shook her head. Her heart ached for sympathy even from Daisy, though she could not speak to her, and she hoped she would not go away just yet.

”Have you hurt yourself?” proceeded Daisy.

Again the same sign.

”Have you done something naughty? I did something very naughty once.”

Seeing that Anna did not shake her head this time, she added, in her condescending little tone:

”If you like, I'll come and sit beside you, and tell you all about it.”

She put her basket of eggs very carefully on the ground, and placed herself comfortably by Anna's side.

”It was a very naughty thing _I_ did,” she began, in a voice of some enjoyment, ”worse than yours, I expect. It was a year ago, and one of our geese was sitting, and mother said she wasn't to be meddled with nohow. And the white Cochin-china hen was sitting too, and”--Daisy paused to give full weight to the importance of the crime, and opened her eyes very wide, ”and--I changed 'em! I carried the goose and put her on the hen's nest, and she forsook it, and the hen forsook hers, and the eggs were all addled! Mother _was_ angry! She said it wasn't the eggs she minded so much as the disobedience. Was yours worse than that?”

”Much, much worse,” murmured Anna.

Daisy made a click with her tongue to express how shocked she felt at this idea.

”Have you said you're sorry, and you won't do it any more?” she asked.

”When you're sorry, people are kind.”

”I don't deserve that they should be kind,” said Anna, looking up mournfully at her little adviser.

”Father and mother were kind afterwards,” said Daisy. ”I had to be punished though. I didn't have eggs for breakfast for a whole month after I changed the goose. I like eggs for breakfast,” she added, thoughtfully. Then glancing at her basket, as she got down from the gate, ”Mother sent those to Mrs Forrest. I came through the garden to find you, but I'm going back over the field. You haven't been to see Star for ever so long. She's growing a real beauty.”

Long after Daisy was out of sight her simple words lingered in Anna's mind. They had made her feel less miserable, though nothing was altered. ”When you're sorry, people are kind,” she repeated. If her grandfather knew the very worst, if he knew that she had actually been ashamed of him, would he possibly forgive her? would he ever look kindly at her again? Anna sat up and dried her tears. She lifted her head with a sudden resolve. ”I will tell him,” she said to herself, ”every bit about it, from the very beginning, and then I must bear whatever he says, and whatever Delia says.”

It was easy to make this brave resolve, with no one to hear it but the quiet cows feeding in the field, but when the evening came, and she stood for the second time at Number 4 Back Row, her heart beat quickly with fear. When she thought of her grandfather's kind face her courage rose a little, but when she thought of what she had to tell him, it fell so low that she was almost inclined to run away. The door opened, but this time Mrs Cooper did not leave her outside. She flung open the door of the sitting-room with her other hand, and said in a loud voice, ”Miss Forrest, sir.”

Anna entered, half afraid as to what she should see, for she had made up her mind that her grandfather was really very ill. To her relief, the Professor and his shabby little room looked unaltered. He was sitting in his arm-chair by the window, tired and worn, as she had often found him before, after one of his long walks, and held out his kind hand to welcome her as usual.

”Oh my dear Anna,” he said, ”you've come to see me. That's right. Come and sit here.”

There was a chair close to him, and as she took it, Anna noticed a piece of half-finished knitting on the table, which she knew belonged to Delia. ”If Delia comes in,” she thought to herself, ”I _can't_ do it.”

”Are you better, grandfather?” she managed to ask, in a very subdued voice.

”Oh, I'm getting on splendidly!” he answered, ”with such a good nurse, and so much care and attention, I shall soon be better than ever I was before.”