She had done what she was told to do, and was waiting quietly for what was to come next.

Her quick ear, however, caught, in the tones of John Petersham, an apologetic tone when speaking of her grandfather, and she was moved to instant anger.
"Why do you speak like that of my grampa ?" she said, rising to her feet, and standing indignantly before him.

"He is the best man in the world, and the kindest and the nicest, and if you don't like him, I can go away to him again.

I don't want to stay here, not one minute.
"You may be my grandpapa," she went on, turning to the squire, "and you may be lonely, but he is lonely, too, and you have got a great house, and all sorts of nice things; and you can do better without me than he can, for he has got nothing to love but me, poor grampa!" And her eyes filled with sudden tears, as she thought of him tramping on his lonely walks over the hills.
"We do not mean to speak unkindly of your grandfather, my dear," the squire said gently.

"I have never seen him, you know, and John has never seen him but once.