THE GRASSHOPPER A BURDEN.


It was some time before the full meaning of Susan's letter penetrated
to her father's brain; but when it did, he was not at first altogether
pained by it. True, it was both a grief and disappointment to think
that his daughter, instead of returning to him, was already on her way
across the sea to a very distant land. But as this came slowly to his
mind, there came also the thought that there would now be no one to
divide with him the treasure committed to his charge. The little child
would belong to him alone. They might go on still, living as they had
done these last three days, and being all in all to one another. If he
could have chosen, his will would certainly have been for Susan to
return to them; but, since he could not have his choice, he felt that
there were some things which would be all the happier for him because
of her absence.

He put Dolly to bed, and then went out to shut up the shop for the night.
As he carried in his feeble arms a single shutter at a time, he heard
himself hailed by a boy's voice, which was lowered to a low and
mysterious whisper, and which belonged to Tony, who took the shutter out
of his hands.

"S'pose the mother turned up all right?" he said, pointing with his thumb
through the half open door.

"No," answered Oliver. "I've had another letter from her, and she's
gone out to India with her husband, and left the little love to live
alone with me."