nt, and, on looking out, one saw the sky and air
vexed and dim, the wind and snow in angry conflict. There was no fall
now, but what had already descended was torn up from the earth, whirled
round by brief shrieking gusts, and cast into a hundred fantastic forms.

The Countess seconded Mrs. Bretton.

"Papa shall not go out," said she, placing a seat for herself beside
her father's arm-chair. "I will look after him. You won't go into town,
will you, papa?"

"Ay, and No," was the answer. "If you and Mrs. Bretton are _very_ good
to me, Polly--kind, you know, and attentive; if you pet me in a very
nice manner, and make much of me, I may possibly be induced to wait an
hour after breakfast and see whether this razor-edged wind settles.
But, you see, you give me no breakfast; you offer me nothing: you let
me starve."

"Quick! please, Mrs. Bretton, and pour out the coffee," entreated
Paulina, "whilst I take care of the Count de Bassompierre in other
respects: since he grew into a Count, he has needed _so_ much
attention."

She separated and prepared a roll.

"There, papa, are your 'pistolets' charged," said she. "And there is
some marmalade, just the same sort of marmalade we used to have at
Bretton, and which you said was as good as if it had been conserved in
Scotland--"

"And which your little ladyship used to beg for my boy--do you remember
that?" interposed Mrs. Bretton. "Have you forgotten how you would come
to my elbow and touch my sleeve with the whisper, 'Please, ma'am,
something good for Graham--a little marmalade, or honey, or jam?"'

"No, mamma," broke in Dr. John, laughing, yet reddening; "it surely was
not so: I could not have cared for these things."

"Did he or did he not, Paulina?"

"He liked them," asserted Paulina.

"Never blush for it, John," said Mr. Home, encouragingly. "I like them
myself yet, and always did. And Polly showed her sense in catering for
a friend's material comforts: it was I who put her into the way of such
good manners--nor do I let her forget them. Polly, offer me a small
slice of that tongue."

"There, papa: but remember you are only waited upon with this
assiduity; on condition of being persuadable, and reconciling yourself
to La Terrasse for the day."

"Mrs. Bretton," said the Count, "I want to get rid of my daughter--to
send her to school. Do you know of any good school?"

"There is Lucy's place--Madame Beck's."

"Miss Snowe is in a school?"

"I am a teacher," I