used to--and he won't let me play with him; not
much.'

The smile which quivered on Dr. Maryland's face changed and
passed into a sort of sweet gravity.

'There is one capital way to get out of commonplace,' he said;
'but it isn't play, my dear. If you set about doing what God
would have you to do with yourself, there will be no dullness
in your life, and no lack of enjoyment, either.'

She looked at him again--then down; but made no answer.

'Somebody has written an essay, that I read lately,' Dr.
Maryland went on--'an essay on the monotony of piety. Poor man!
he did not know what he was talking about. The glorious
liberty of the children of God!--that was something beyond his
experience;--and the joy of their service. It is what redeems
everything else from monotony. It glorifies what is
insignificant, and dignifies what is mean, and lifts what is
low, and turns the poor little business steps of every day
into rounds of Heaven's golden ladder. I verily think I could
have hanged myself long ago, for the very monotony of all
things else, if it had not been for the life and glory of
religion!'

'Why papa!' said Primrose.

'I would, my dear, I do think.' He was silent a moment; then
subsiding from the excited fire with which he had spoken, he
turned to Wych Hazel and went on gently,--

'What else do you want to do, my dear, that is not to be done
in that track? you want adventures?'

'Yes, sir,' she answered, without looking up, half hesitating,
a little grave. 'I think I do. And more people about,--people
to love me, and that I can love. Of course I love Mr.
Falkirk,' she added, correcting herself, 'very much; but that
is different. And there's nobody else but the servants.'

'O do come here!' cried Primrose; 'and love us.'

'I do not wonder Mr. Falkirk gives no help,' said Rollo, a
little quizzically.

'Will you try Primrose's expedient, my dear?' said Dr.
Maryland, very benignly. 'Half your requisition you will
certainly find. Whether you can love us, I don't know; but
there's no knowing without trying.'

She gave one of her sweet childish looks of answer to both the
first and last speaker; but Mr. Rollo was favoured with a
small reproof.

'You must not speak so of Mr. Falkirk,' she said. 'He has been
the kindest possible friend to me. And I think he loves me
wonderfully, considering how I have tried his patience. Just
think what it is for a grave, quiet, grown-up, sensible man,
to have the plague