"
"What brought him to life at first?" asked Mary.
"Why, you see, he were never really dead, only torpid--that is, dead
asleep with the cold, and our good fire brought him round."
"I'm glad father does not care for such things," said Mary.
"Are you? Well, I'm often downright glad grandfather is so fond of
his books, and his creatures, and his plants. It does my heart good
to see him so happy, sorting them all at home, and so ready to go in
search of more, whenever he's a spare day. Look at him now! he's
gone back to his books, and he'll be as happy as a king, working
away till I make him go to bed. It keeps him silent, to be sure;
but so long as I see him earnest, and pleased, and eager, what does
that matter? Then, when he has his talking bouts, you can't think
how much he has to say. Dear grandfather! you don't know how happy
we are!"
Mary wondered if the dear grandfather heard all this, for Margaret
did not speak in an undertone; but no! he was far too deep, and
eager in solving a problem. He did not even notice Mary's
leave-taking, and she went home with the feeling that she had that
night made the acquaintance of two of the strangest people she ever
saw in her life.
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