'I like to see you look so,' said the little girl, as I melted
entirely under these sweet influences. 'You looked so cross before
that I was nearly afraid of you.'

And she took hold of my hand, not hesitatingly, but frankly. The
little fingers clasped mine. I looked at them. They were much more
sun-tanned than her face. The little rosy nails were shaped like
filbert nuts.

'Why were you not _quite_ afraid of me?' I asked.

'Because,' said she, 'under the crossness I saw that you had great
love-eyes like Snap's all the while. _I_ saw it!' she said, and
laughed with delight at her great wisdom. Then she said with a sudden
gravity, 'You didn't mean to make my father cry, did you, little
boy?'

'No,' I said.

'And you love him?' said she.

I hesitated, for I had never told a lie in my life. My business
relations with Tom had been of an entirely unsatisfactory character,
and the idea of any one's loving the beery scamp presented itself in
a ludicrous light. I got out of the difficulty by saying,

'I mean to love Tom very much, if I can.'

The answer did not appear to be entirely satisfactory to the little