'Such a man to joke!
you'd think, if you didn't know him, he was in ear-
nest -- wouldn't you now?'
The Blind Girl smiled and nodded.
'The bird that can sing and won't sing, must be
made to sing, they say,' grumbled Tackleton. 'What
about the owl that can't sing, and oughtn't to sing,
and will sing; is there anything that he should be
made to do?'
'The extent to which he's winking at this moment!'
whispered Caleb to his daughter. '0, my gracious!'
'Always merry and light-hearted with us!' cried
the smiling Bertha.
'0, you're there, are you?' answered Tackleton.
'Poor Idiot!'
He really did believe she was an Idiot; and he
found the belief, I can't say whether consciously or
not, upon her being fond of him.
'Well! and being there, -- how are you?' said Tack-
leton, in his grudging way.
'Oh! well; quite well. And as happy as even you
can wish me to be. As happy as you would make the
whole world, if you could!'
'Poor Idiot!' muttered Tackleton. 'No gleam of
reason. Not a gleam!'
The Blind Girl took his hand and kissed it; held it
for a moment in her own two hands; and laid her
cheek against it tenderly, before releasing it.
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