The roots of these old trees were Ellinor's favourite play-place; this
space between these two was her doll's kitchen, that its drawing-room,
and so on. Mr. Corbet rather despised her contrivances for doll's
furniture, so she had not often brought him here; but Dixon delighted in
them, and contrived and planned with the eagerness of six years old
rather than forty. To-night Ellinor went to this place, and there were
all a new collection of ornaments for Miss Dolly's sitting-room made out
of fir-bobs, in the prettiest and most ingenious way. She knew it was
Dixon's doing and rushed off in search of him to thank him.
"What's the matter with my pretty?" asked Dixon, as soon as the pleasant
excitement of thanking and being thanked was over, and he had leisure to
look at her tear-stained face.
"Oh, I don't know! Never mind," said she, reddening.
Dixon was silent for a minute or two, while she tried to turn off his
attention by her hurried prattle.
"There's no trouble afoot that I can mend?" asked he, in a minute or two.
"Oh, no! It's really nothing--nothing at all," said she. "It's only
that Mr. Corbet went away without saying good-bye to me, that's all." And
she looked as if she should have liked to cry again.
"That was not manners," said Dixon, decisively.
"But it was my fault," replied Ellinor, pleading against the
condemnation.
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