There was one person, however, that Tilly could speak to, could ask counsel of, and that, of course, was her grandmother.  Grandmother, she was quite sure, would agree with her that the story was not to be chattered about; and even if it were true that Mrs. Smith and Peggy were those very Smithsons, neither was to blame, but only, as she had heard her father say once of the family of a man who had proved a defaulter, “innocent victims who were very much to be pitied.”

But perhaps—­perhaps grandmother would not believe that Mrs. Smith and Peggy were “those Smithsons,” and perhaps she would find some careful way to investigate the matter and prove that they were not.  With this hope springing up over her fears, Tilly flew along the corridor to her grandmother’s room.

“What! what! what!” cried grandmother, as she listened to the story; “I don’t believe a word of Agnes’s suspicions.  There are millions of Smiths in the world.”

“But did you hear what I said about that last paragraph,—­the girl of fourteen or fifteen, and—­and the letter,—­the letter to South America?” asked Tilly, tremulously.

“In what paper was it that Agnes found the statement?”

“It was some morning paper:  I don’t know which one,—­I only remember seeing the date.”

Grandmother rang the bell, and sent for all the morning papers.  When they were brought her, she put on her spectacles and began the search for “Smithson, alias Smith.”  One, two, three papers she searched through; and at last there it was,—­“Smithson, alias Smith!”

Tilly watched her grandmother as she read with breathless anxiety, and her heart sank as she noticed how serious was the expression on the reader’s face as she came to the last paragraph.

“Oh, grandmother,” she cried, “you do believe it may be our Smiths.”

“Well, yes, my dear, I believe that it may possibly be, that’s all; but it may not be, just as possibly.”

“Oh, grandmother, couldn’t you inquire—­carefully, you know.”

“No, no, my dear.  If it isn’t our Smiths, think what an outrage any inquiries would be; and if it is, how cruel to stir the matter up!  No, we must say nothing.  The girl is an innocent creature; and if this Smithson is her father, I doubt if she has been told by anybody the facts of the case,—­probably there was some very different reason given her for dropping that last syllable of the name.  However it may be, it would be cruel for us to show by our manner or speech any knowledge of the story; for either way, whether they are those Smithsons or not, Agnes has made a very unpleasant situation for them, and we must be good to them.”

“But, grandmother, when Agnes tells other people—­”

“She won’t.  Your little warning, by your description of the way she took it, convinces me that she won’t.”

“But other people read the papers, and they—­”

“May not take any more notice than I did, if Agnes’s spiteful suspicions are held in check.”