-I can't feel as
they're children of mine at all.'

It was a strange and touching thing that he seemed nowadays utterly to
have forgotten Clara's past. Invariably he spoke of her as if she had
at all times been his stay and comfort. The name of his son who was
dead never passed his lips, but of Clara he could not speak too long or
too tenderly.

'I can't think what to do,' Sidney said. 'If I talk to her in a
fault-finding way, she'll only dislike me the more; she feels I've no
business to interfere.'

'You're too soft with them. You spoil them. Why, there's one of them
broken a pane in the kitchen to-day, end they know you'll take it
quiet, like you do everything else.'

Sidney wrinkled his brow. These petty expenses, ever repeated, were
just what made the difficulty in his budget; he winced whenever such
demands encroached upon the poor weekly income of which every penny was
too little for the serious needs of the family. Feeling that if he sat
and thought much longer a dark mood would seize upon him, he rose
hastily.

'I shall try kindness with her. Don't say anything more in her hearing.'

He went to the kitchen-door, and cried cheerfully, 'My dinner ready,
girls?'

Annie's voice replied with a timorous affirmative.

'All right; I'll be down in a minute.'

Treading as gently as possible, he ascended the stairs and entered his
bedroom. The blind was drawn down, but sunlight shone through it and
made a softened glow in the chamber. In a little cot was sitting his
child, May, rather more than a year old; she had toys about her, and
was for the moment contented. Clara lay on the bed, her face turned so
that Sidney could not see it. He spoke to her, and she just moved her
arm, but gave no reply.

'Do you wish to be left alone?' he asked, in a subdued and troubled
voice.

'Yes.'

'Shall I take May downstairs?'

'If you like. Don't speak to me now.'

He remained standing by the bed for a minute, then turned his eyes on
the child, who smiled at him. He could not smile in return, but went
quietly away.

'It's one of her bad days,' whispered Hewett, who met him at the foot
of the stairs. 'She can't help it, poor girl!'

'No, no.'

Sidney ate what was put before him without giving a thought to it. When
his eyes wandered round the kitchen the disorder and dirt worried him,
but on that subject he could not speak. His hunger appeased, he looked
steadily at Amy, and said in a kindly tone:

'Father tells m