“I’m not going to maul you about. I expect your aunts have slobbered over you enough downstairs. Just give me one kiss, if you want to. But if you don’t want to, now that you’re so close to my skinny old face, why, say so, and I shan’t mind.” But Letizia put both arms round her great-grandmother’s neck and kissed her fervidly. “And now sit down and tell me how you like Lebanon House,” she commanded. “Is this Lebbon House?” The old woman nodded. “I like it here, but I don’t like it where those aunts are. Have you seen those aunts, grannie?” “I made them.” “Why did you make them, grannie? I don’t fink they was very nicely made, do you? I don’t fink their dresses was sewed on very nicely, do you?” “You’re an observant young woman, that’s what you are.” “What is azervant?” “Why, you have eyes in your head and see with them.” “I see those gold stags,” said Letizia, pointing to the antelopes. “Ah-ha, you see them, do you?” “Did Santy Claus give them to you? He gived me a lamb and a monkey and lots and lots of fings, so I aspeck he did.” “I expect he did too. But they’re antelopes, not stags.” “Auntylopes?” Letizia repeated dubiously. “Will Santy Claus put gold aunts in your stocking at Christmas?” “_Mon dieu_, I hope not,” the old lady exclaimed. “So you like antelopes better than aunts?” “Yes, I do. And I like puss-cats better. And I like all fings better than I like aunts.” “Well, then I’ll tell you something. When Santa Claus brought me those antelopes, he said I was to give them to you.” Letizia clapped her hands. “Fancy! I fought he did, grannie.” “So, if you’ll take them into the next room with Miss Young, she’ll wrap them up for you while I’m talking to your mother.” “How kind of you to give them to her,” said Nancy, from whose eyes the silent tears had at last ceased to flow. “Letizia darling, say ‘thank you’ to your kind grannie.” “_Senza complimenti, senza complimenti_,” the old woman muttered, “The pleasure in her eyes was all the thanks I wanted.” “I aspeck they won’t feel very hungry wivout the apples and the pears,” Letizia suggested anxiously. “Of course they won’t, darling,” her mother interrupted quickly. “You’d better wrap up some of the fruit as well, Emily,” said the old lady with a chuckle. “No, please ...” Nancy began. “Hoity-toity, I suppose I can do what I like with my own fruit?” said the old lady sharply. “Draw the curtains before you go, Emily.” When Letizia had retired with Miss Young, and the gilded antelopes and a generous handful of the wax fruit, the old lady bade Nancy draw up one of the great Venetian chairs. When her grandson’s wife was seated beside the bed, she asked her why she had come to Brigham. Nancy gave her an account of her struggles for an engagement and told her about Bram’s death and that unuttered wish. “He may have worried about your future,” said the old lady. “But it was never his wish that Letizia should be brought up here. Never! I know what that wish was.”