He told Val that Smiles at
the post office had read it, and didn't think much of it, but that it
showed Mr. Brandon had a kind heart. 'And so he has,' said Swan, 'and he
couldn't hide that if he wished to. Why, he's as good as a knife that
has pared onions, sir,--everything it touches relishes of 'em.'"
"You had better not repeat that to Mr. Brandon," said John, "he is
rather touchy about his book. It has been very unfavourably reviewed."
"But Swan intended a compliment," answered Johnnie, "and he loves
onions. I often see him at his tea, eating slices of them with the bread
and butter. You are better now, dear father, are you not?"
"Yes, my boy. What made you think there was anything specially the
matter with me?"
"Oh, I knew you must be dreadfully miserable, for you could hardly take
any notice even of me."
A small shrill voice, thin and silvery, was heard across the passage.
"Nancy often talks now," said Johnnie; "she spoke several times this
morning."
John rose softly and moved towards it. "And what did the robin say
then," it asked.
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