was handsome, and passed off for being quite fashionable among a household so simple and unpretending as that of Shelley House; but Dr Norman seemed to have no eyes, however she might trick out her dark hair with red ribbons, and sweep her long skirts across his path. She was solicitous of his comfort, handing him his slippers and newspaper quietly, and ministering to his comfort in almost unnoticeable ways; but it was all the same. Kitty would have despaired of making friends with Dr Norman but for one fact-he was a man and she was a woman, and a woman can always make herself necessary to a man, if she pleases, and has opportunity. One day Kitty happened to be alone when Dr Norman came in for his midday meal: he had his early cup of tea in his dressing-room, and breakfasted again at the children's dinner. She rose, not with alacrity, rather with a quiet, humble, sympathetic air, as if she were his waiting-maid, and helped him to wine and meat.

"Don't you trouble," he said, as usual; but she insisted upon troubling; and, when she had got him all he wanted, took up her needlework, a doll's dress for Prissy, and said, quietly, almost sadly

"You should let me have the pleasure of doing such little things for you, since you have been very kind to me."

"In what way have I been kind?" asked Dr Norman. "I haven't the least idea."

"It was very kind of you to ask me down here," Kitty said, still modestly stitching away at her doll's frock. "I have not many friends, and seldom get asked into the country."

"Then I hope you will come here as often as you like. It's a great pleasure to the children."

66

'I do think they are fond of me; and even Prissy lets me do things for her now."

"Oh! Prissy is always telling me of the wonderful things Miss Silver has done for her; but you really make yourself a slave to the children. It is nonsense to do that, and when I am away they will lead you a pretty life of it."

"If I can only help to make their holidays happy, I don't mind making myself a slave to them," Kitty answered. "Supposing that I am not wanted at home, and you desire it, I will stay here till you return from Norway."

"It is very good of you," said Dr Norman, heartily; "but do you honestly think you can live in this Babel so long?"

"I don't find it a Babel. I like being with childrenwhen they are nice children—and, besides, Laura and Regy are quite companionable. If you would feel it any comfort to know that I am with them, I will stay till you are home again."

Dr Norman thought the proposition a very amiable one on Kitty's part, and a very expedient one to accept.

"The children never take any harm with the servants to look after them," he said; "but, of course, I would prefer to leave them in charge of a lady like yourself."

Kitty grew radiant.

"I will put Laura's wardrobe in proper order for her return to school, and make Regy and Clevy some new shirts," she went on; "and we will all be good while you are away.'

دو

"Do exactly as you like," said Dr Norman, rising from the table; "only be happy. All I ask of my children is to tell the truth and be happy."

"And they are happy," Kitty said, with emphasis.

"I hope so, poor things! but they sadly want a mother to look after them."

And with this, Dr Norman went away. He liked Kitty's simple way of putting the matter of her stay; nothing, he thought, could be more kind or gentlewomanly. There was no doubt that the children wished it; Laura and Regy had thrown out hints more than once, and the younger ones had said at meal-time-" Papa, ask Miss Silver to stay on and on, and never go;" or, "Papa, Miss Silver is not to go away any more at all," and so on. It seemed to him the most sensible arrangement in the world; and he felt greatly indebted to Kitty for suggesting it. Dr Norman having children, loved them, and wished to make them happy; but he was always

pitying them for being motherless, and blaming himself for not being able to take a mother's care of them. For their own sakes he could have wished that they had never been born. If a mother's care was only a purchaseable thing, he would have purchased it at any price-except one. He could not marry again. He had lost a perfect wife-at least, he had so found her-and he could not marry again. A second marriage seemed to him like writing a parody on a psalm.

As Dr Norman reviewed Kitty's proposal, he thought more and more of what his wife would have been to him now. Regy was as tall as himself. Laura had forsaken short frocks and dolls long ago; in a few years his children would be young men and women, and he had not the faintest notion what to do with them. The boys must make their way in the world, and do no dishonour to his name. The girls must stay with him a little longer, and then marry, and be lost to him too. But who was there to see that all this was well done? Dr Norman's heart failed him as he thought of the future. It was easy to make the children's lives what they ought to be now, whilst they were like so many young animals, requiring plenty of pasture-ground and nothing more; but the time was drawing near when these wild young things must have harness put on them, to do their work in the world; and how would it be then? He was not a domestic man; he had never been adroit at holding a baby, or drawing a child's tooth, and he had not grown more domestic during these years of widowhood. He said to himself that other men would have fulfilled the paternal duty better than he had done, and would have made themselves more acquainted with the individual characters of their children, would have associated themselves more closely with them in little things. It was not in his character to do this. His theory about children began and ended in giving them plenty of breathing space. Having children, he felt that he was in duty bound to have theories about them.

Dr Norman had not a particle of sentimentality in his disposition; he was a widower in spirit and in truth, but he did not dress up his grief, like a Madonna Dolorosa, with flowers

and exotics, and worship it every day. He did not read all the new poems that crop up about love and grief. He despised above all etiquette, the etiquette of the feelings; so that people called him stern, and believed him to be so. How should it

be otherwise?

But Dr Norman went his way, content that the world should never see a scar which was not nearly healed yet.

During those last few days, before he started for his trip, his children saw a good deal of him.

"Miss Silver shall not think me a sort of Timon," he thought; "and as I am going away, the sacrifice will only be for a day or two. If I were to be at home all the holidays, it would be the death of me!

So he joined the young people at croquet for ten minutes one day, accompanied them to church another, drove with them to see some ruins on a third; letting himself be carried about like a tame bear, just where they liked.

It was amusing to see how the children took care of him. Laura made him put on his greatcoat; Regy would not allow him to drive; Prissy told him where the grass was dry enough to sit down on, and where it was not. All this made Kitty impatient. She wanted to take care of Dr Norman herself, and he always rebelled against her good offices, whilst he obeyed Prissy as if she had been his wife.

The drive to the ruins was surreptitiously turned by the children into a sort of pic-nic; and when Dr Norman alightedhe saw two or three young ladies in white frocks moving among the trees, and some of Clevy's friends boiling a kettle. He would have escaped, but saw no way, so he made a grimace, and swallowed the pill bravely.

Kitty walked up to him, looking very conscious.

"You mustn't scold," she said; 66 we so wanted to have a little fête before you went away, and we knew we must set a trap for you-Prissy said that."

"Oh! Prissy would cheat Mephistopheles himself! But I'm sorry that the party seems to be all of boys and girls.

Regy and Laura ought to have invited some grown-up people for you."

"It doesn't matter," Kitty said, with that frankness she had already found so acceptable; "I want to have a little talk with you about the children."

"You are very good, I'm sure, to trouble yourself about the children," Dr Norman answered, taking out a cigar-Kitty had more than once begged him to smoke in her presence, and he knew he might do it now. "Suppose we stroll up the hill whilst they prepare their kettledrum?"

Kitty assented, and they set off.

"I was going to ask you about Laura's wardrobe," Kitty went on, very practically. "Symonds, the housekeeper, is far too old to see to it, and the poor child is quite disfigured by the old-fashioned dresses she has bought for her."

"Get her anything she ought to have; I will leave a cheque," Dr Norman answered, anxious to settle the matter in as few words as possible.

"And what is far more important, Dr Norman, I don't feel at all sure that the school you send Laura to is good enough for her."

"What a

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" Dr Norman groaned. thing it is to have motherless children! I assure you that same school was recommended to me by one of my oldest friends. The child declares herself to be very happy."

"Yes, she is happy enough; but that is not all. I think she has not air enough, nor exercise enough, nor good food enough, for a fast-growing girl."

Dr Norman took longer steps, and looked uneasy.

"She shall not go to school again. She shall keep at home for once and for all, and shall do nothing but eat and run about," he said, evidently scolding himself bitterly. "I never notice children's looks; but I ought to have had her weighed when she went and when she came home. Make her take port wine, Miss Silver."

"Never fear but that Laura does well enough at home,' Kitty said, smiling.