Shall we ask grandmother, Sylvia ?" "No, of course not.

What does it matter to us?
Of course it was all properly done.

If it hadn't been, how would grandmother have known about it ?" "I never thought of that.

Still I would like to know.

I think," said Molly meditatively, "I think I could get grandmother to tell without exactly asking--for fear, you know, of seeming to remind her about poor Uncle Jack." "You'd much better not," said Sylvia, as she left the room.
But once let Molly get a thing well into her head, "trust her," as Ralph said, "not to let it out again till it suited her." That very evening when they were all sitting together again, working and talking, all except aunty, busily writing at her little table in the corner, Molly began.
"Grandmother dear," she said gently, "wasn't the old lady _dreadfully_ sorry when she heard he was dead ?" For a moment grandmother stared at her in bewilderment--her thoughts had been far away.