ertainly left
her face. Mr. Carlyle made a few civil inquiries as to her journey, but
she did not dare to raise her eyes to his, as she breathed forth the
answers.

"You are at home soon, Archibald," said Barbara, addressing him. "I did
not expect you so early. I did not think you could get away. Do you know
what I was wishing to-day?" she continued. "Papa is going to London with
Squire Pinner to see those new agricultural implements--or whatever it
is. They are sure to be away as much as three days. I was thinking if we
could but persuade mamma to come to us for the time papa is to be
away, it would be a delightful little change for her--a break in her
monotonous life."

"I wish you could," warmly spoke Mr. Carlyle. "Her life, since you left,
is a monotonous one; though, in her gentle patience, she will not say
so. It is a happy thought, Barbara, and I only hope it may be carried
out. Mrs. Carlyle's mother is an invalid, and lonely, for she has
no child at home with her now," he added, in a spirit of politeness,
addressing himself to Madame Vine.

She simply bowed her head; trust herself to speak she did not. Mr.
Carlyle scanned her face attentively, as she sat, her spectacles bent
downward. She did not appear inclined to be sociable, and he turned to
the baby, who was wider awake than ever.

"Young sir, I should like to know what brings you up, and here, at this
hour."

"You may well ask," said Barbara. "I just had him brought down, as you
were not here, thinking he would be asleep directly. And only look at
him!--no more sleep in his eyes than there is in mine."

She would have hushed him to her as she spoke, but the young gentleman
stoutly repudiated it. He set up a half cry, and struggled his arms, and
head free again, crowing the next moment most impudently. Mr. Carlyle
took him.

"It is no use, Barbara; he is beyond your coaxing this evening." And he
tossed the child in his strong arms, held him up to the chandelier, made
him bob at the baby in the pier-glass, until the rebel was in an ecstacy
of delight. Finally he smothered his face with kisses, as Barbara had
done. Barbara rang the bell.

Oh! Can you imagine what it was for Lady Isabel? So had he tossed, so
had he kissed her children, she standing by, the fond, proud, happy
mother, as Barbara was standing now. Mr. Carlyle came up to her.

"Are you fond of these little troubles, Madame Vine? This one is a fine
fellow, they say."

"Very fine. What