But Maggie," said she, smiling up into her friend's face, "I think it would have made you laugh, for all you look as if a kiss would shake the tears out of your eyes, if you could have seen my uncle's manner to me all day.

He will have it that I am suffering from an unrequited attachment; so he watched me and watched me over breakfast; and at last, when I had eaten a whole nest-full of eggs, and I don't know how many pieces of toast, he rang the bell and asked for some potted charr.

I was quite unconscious that it was for me, and I did not want it when it came; so he sighed in a most melancholy manner, and said, 'My poor Erminia!' If Frank had not been there, and looking dreadfully miserable, I am sure I should have laughed out." "Did Frank look miserable ?" said Maggie, anxiously.
"There now! you don't care for anything but the mention of his name." "But did he look unhappy ?" persisted Maggie.
"I can't say he looked happy, dear Mousey; but it was quite different when he came back from seeing you.

You know you always had the art of stilling any person's trouble.

You and my aunt Buxton are the only two I ever knew with that gift." "I am so sorry he has any trouble to be stilled," said Maggie.
"And I think it will do him a world of good.