y had been left at the house by Doctor Benjulia--he dismissed the
woman from duty. "You needn't return," he said; "I'll look after the
children myself."

Maria was busy with her book; and even idle Zo was employed!

She was writing at her own inky desk; and she looked up in confusion,
when her father appeared. Unsuspicious Mr. Gallilee took if for granted
that his favourite daughter was employed on a writing lesson--following
Maria's industrious example for once. "Good children!" he said, looking
affectionately from one to the other. "I won't disturb you; go on." He
took a chair, satisfied--comforted, even--to be in the same room with
the girls.

If he had placed himself nearer to the desk, he might have seen that Zo
had been thinking of Carmina to some purpose.

What could she do to make her friend and playfellow well and happy
again? There was the question which Zo asked herself, after having seen
Carmina carried insensible out of the room.

Possessed of that wonderful capacity for minute observation of the
elder persons about them, which is one among the many baffling mysteries
presented by the minds of children, Zo had long since discovered that
the member of the household, preferred to all others by Carmina, was the
good brother who had gone away and left them. In his absence, she was
always talking of him--and Zo had seen her kiss his photograph before
she put it back in the case.

Dwelling on these recollections, the child's slowly-working mental
process arrived more easily than usual at the right conclusion. The way
to make Carmina well and happy again, was to bring Ovid back. One of the
two envelopes which he had directed for her still remained--waiting for
the letter which might say to him, "Come home!"

Zo determined to write that letter--and to do it at once.

She might have confided this design to her father (the one person
besides Carmina who neither scolded her nor laughed at her) if Mr.
Gallilee had distinguished himself by his masterful position in the
house. But she had seen him, as everybody else had seen him, "afraid
of mamma." The doubt whether he might not "tell mamma," decided her on
keeping her secret. As the event proved, the one person who informed
Ovid of the terrible necessity that existed for his return, was the
little sister whom it had been his last kind effort to console when he
left England.

When Mr. Gallilee entered the room, Zo had just reached the end of
her letter. Her sy