a picture, in its way, to see her, with her tiny stature,
and trim, neat shape, standing at his knee. Seeing that he continued to
talk, apparently unconscious of her return, she took his hand, opened
the unresisting fingers, insinuated into them the handkerchief, and
closed them upon it one by one. He still seemed not to see or to feel
her; but by-and-by, he lifted her to his knee; she nestled against him,
and though neither looked at nor spoke to the other for an hour
following, I suppose both were satisfied.

During tea, the minute thing's movements and behaviour gave, as usual,
full occupation to the eye. First she directed Warren, as he placed the
chairs.

"Put papa's chair here, and mine near it, between papa and Mrs.
Bretton: _I_ must hand his tea."

She took her own seat, and beckoned with her hand to her father.

"Be near me, as if we were at home, papa."

And again, as she intercepted his cup in passing, and would stir the
sugar, and put in the cream herself, "I always did it for you at home;
papa: nobody could do it as well, not even your own self."

Throughout the meal she continued her attentions: rather absurd they
were. The sugar-tongs were too wide for one of her hands, and she had
to use both in wielding them; the weight of the silver cream-ewer, the
bread-and-butter plates, the very cup and saucer, tasked her
insufficient strength and dexterity; but she would lift this, hand
that, and luckily contrived through it all to break nothing. Candidly
speaking, I thought her a little busy-body; but her father, blind like
other parents, seemed perfectly content to let her wait on him, and
even wonderfully soothed by her offices.

"She is my comfort!" he could not help saying to Mrs. Bretton. That
lady had her own "comfort" and nonpareil on a much larger scale, and,
for the moment, absent; so she sympathised with his foible.

This second "comfort" came on the stage in the course of the evening. I
knew this day had been fixed for his return, and was aware that Mrs.
Bretton had been expecting him through all its hours. We were seated
round the fire, after tea, when Graham joined our circle: I should
rather say, broke it up--for, of course, his arrival made a bustle; and
then, as Mr. Graham was fasting, there was refreshment to be provided.
He and Mr. Home met as old acquaintance; of the little girl he took no
notice for a time.

His meal over, and numerous questions from his mother answered, he
turned f