umbrella, and set to work to brush the former and furl the latter prior
to going out. The hat was not of that uniform and glossy smoothness
which one could see into to shave, and the umbrella was weather-beaten
of aspect. The morning coat, though well cut, was shiny at the seams.
Yet, in spite of the wear and tear of his outer gear, with so
unmistakably thoroughbred a look was their wearer stamped that it seemed
he might have worn anything. Many a man would have looked and felt
shabby in this long service get-up; this one never gave it a thought,
or, if he did, it was only to wonder whether he should ever again, after
this time, put on that venerable "stove-pipe," and if so, what sort of
experiences would have been his in the interim.

Now there was a patter of feet in the passage, the door-handle turned
softly, and a little girl came in. She was a sweetly-pretty child, with
that rare combination of dark-lashed brown eyes and golden hair. Here,
if anywhere, was Laurence Stanninghame's soft place. His other progeny
was represented by two sturdy boys, combative of instinct and firm of
tread, and whose gambols, whether pacific or bellicose, were apt to
shake the rattletrap old semi-detached and the parental nerves in about
equal proportions; constituting, furthermore, a standing bone of
parental contention. This little one, however, having turned ten, was of
a companionable age; and to the male understanding the baby stage does
not, as a rule, commend itself.

She was full of the racket which had just taken place overhead; but to
this Laurence hardly listened. There was always a racket overhead, a
fight or a fall or a bumping. One more or less hardly mattered. He was
thinking of his own weakness. Would she feel parting with him? Children
as a rule were easily consoled. A new and gaudy toy would make them
forget anything. And appositely to this thought, the little one's mind
was also full of a marvellous engine she had seen the last time she had
been taken into London--one which wound up with a key and ran a great
distance without stopping.

Being alone--for by this time he had come to regard all display of
affection before others as a weakness--Laurence drew the child to him
and kissed her tenderly.

"And supposing that engine were some day to come puffing in, Fay;
to-morrow or the day after?" he said.

The little one's eyes danced. The toy was an expensive one, quite out of
reach for her, she knew. If only it were