ck with the report that she had persuaded Mary to go to bed,
she was startled by the street door being opened as far as the chain
would allow, and a voice calling, 'I say, is any one there to let me
in?'

'Harry! O, Harry! I'm coming;' and she had scarcely had time to shut
the door previous to taking down the chain, before the three others
were in the hall, the tumult of greetings breaking forth.

'But where's Polly?' he asked, as soon as he was free to look round
them all.

'Going to bed with a bad headache,' was the answer, with which Daisy
had sense enough not to interfere; and the sailor had been brought into
the drawing-room, examined on his journey, and offered supper, before
he returned to the charge.

'Nothing really the matter with Mary, I hope?'

'Oh! no--nothing.'

'Can't I go up and see her?'

'Not just at present,' said Ethel. 'I will see how she is when she is
in bed, but if she is going to sleep, we had better not disturb her.'

'Harry thinks she must sleep better for the sight of him,' said the
Doctor; 'but it is a melancholy business.--Harry, your nose is out of
joint.'

'Who is it?' said Harry, gravely.

'Ah! you have chosen a bad time to come home. We shall know no comfort
till it is over.'

'Who?' cried Harry; 'no nonsense, Gertrude, I can't stand guessing.'

This was directed to Gertrude, who was only offending by pursed lips
and twinkling eyes, because he could not fall foul of his father. Dr.
May took pity, and answered at once.

'Cheviot!' cried Harry. 'Excellent! He always did know how to get the
best of everything. Polly turning into a Mrs. Hoxton. Ha! ha! Well,
that is a relief to my mind.'

'You did look rather dismayed, certainly. What were you afraid of?'

'Why, when that poor young Leonard Ward's business was in the papers, a
messmate of mine was asked if we were not all very much interested,
because of some attachment between some of us. I thought he must mean
me or Tom, for I was tremendously smitten with that sweet pretty girl,
and I used to be awfully jealous of Tom, but when I heard of Mary going
to bed with a headache, and that style of thing, I began to doubt, and
I couldn't stand her taking up with such a dirty little nigger as Henry
Ward was at school.'

'I think you might have known Mary better!' exclaimed Gertrude.

'And it's not Tom either?' he asked.

'Exactly the reverse,' laughed his father.

'Well, Tom is a sly fellow, and he had a knack of