Seeing that Mrs. King was serving some one in the shop, she only nodded to her, and came straight upstairs.  Alfred raised up his head, and beheld the little fairy through the open door, first the head, and the smiling little face and slight figure in the fresh summer dress.

Miss Jane was not thought very pretty by strangers; but that dainty little person, and sweet sunny eyes and merry smile, and shy, kind, gracious ways, were perfect in the eyes of her grandmamma and of Mrs. King and her children, if of nobody else.  Alfred, in his present dismal state, only felt vexed at a fresh person coming up to worry him, and make a talking; especially one whose presence was a restraint, so that he could not turn about and make cross answers at his will.

‘Well, Alfred, how are you to-day?’ said the sweet gay voice, a little subdued.

‘Better, Ma’am, thank you,’ said Alfred, who always called himself better, whatever he felt; but his voice told the truth better than his words.

‘He’s had a very bad night, Miss Jane,’ said his sister; ’no sleep at all since two o’clock, and he is so low to-day, that I don’t know what to do with him.’

Alfred hated nothing so much as to hear that he was low, for it meant that he was cross.

‘Poor Alfred!’ said the young lady kindly.  ’Was it pain that kept you awake?’

‘No, Ma’am—­not so much—­’ said the boy.

Miss Jane saw he looked very sad, and hoped to cheer him by opening her basket.  ’I’ve brought you a new book, Alfred.  It is “The Cherry-stones.”  Have you finished the last?’

‘No, Ma’am.’

‘Did you like it?’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

But it was a very matter-of-course sort of Yes, and disappointed Miss
Jane, who thought he would have been charmed with the ’Swiss Family
Robinson.’

Ellen spoke:  ’Oh yes, Alfred, you know you did like it.  I heard you laughing to yourself at Ernest and the shell of soup.  And Harold reads that; and ‘tis so seldom he will look at a book.’

Jane did not like this quite as well as if Alfred had spoken up more; but she dived into her basket again, and brought out a neat little packet of green leaves, with some strawberries done up in it, and giving a little smile, she made sure that it would be acceptable.

Ellen thanked vehemently, and Alfred gave feeble thanks; but, unluckily, he had so set his mind upon raspberries, that he could not enjoy the thought of anything else.  It was a sickly distaste for everything, and Miss Selby saw that he was not as much pleased as she meant him to be; she looked at him wistfully, and, half grieved, half impatient, she longed to know what he would really like, or if he were positively ungrateful.  She was very young, and did not know whether it was by his fault or her mistake that she had failed to satisfy him.

Puck had raced up after her, and had come poking and snuffling round Alfred.  She would have called him away lest he should be too much for one so weak, but she saw Alfred really did enjoy this:  his hand was in the long rough coat, and he was whispering, ‘Poor Puck,’ and ‘Good little doggie;’ and the little hairy rummaging creature, with the bright black beads of eyes gleaming out from under his shaggy hair, was doing him more good than her sense and kindness, or Ellen’s either.