e a fortnight together after their marriage in some
seaside place, before settling down to their old duties. Sir Denis had
made Pat the offer of a cottage in the country, but this Pat had
refused, to his master's great relief. "Sure, what would you do without
me?" he said. "I was thinking the same myself," responded the General.

The General had it in his mind that presently, when those children came,
it might be necessary to give up Sherwood Square and live in the country
for their sakes. A little place in Ireland now, the General thought,
where there was always plenty of sport and good-fellowship. However,
that might wait. But the thought was a sweet one, to be turned over in
the old man's mind.

Sometimes the present took odd shapes. There was a young housemaid whose
eyes were ringed about with black circles, eyes pale with much weeping.
Her mother was ill among the Essex marshes, and the only chance for her
life, said the doctors, was to get her away to a mild, bracing place for
some months. Bournemouth would do very well. Bournemouth? Why, Heaven
was much more accessible, it seemed, than Bournemouth for the poor
mother of many children.

"Emma Brooks," said the General. "I wonder what's in this envelope for
Emma Brooks."

Poor Emma came up, smiling a wavering smile that was on the edge of
tears. She took the envelope, peered within it, and then cried out, "Oh,
God bless you, sir!" It contained a letter of admission to a
convalescent home at Bournemouth for six months, and the money for the
expenses of getting there. "It's my mother's life, sir," cried Emma.
"You shall go home to-morrow, my girl, and take her there," said the
General. "I'll pay whatever is necessary."

At last the Tree was stripped of nearly everything but its candles and
its bright dingle-dangles. There was a little basket at the foot of the
Tree addressed to the General, which had been moving about in a peculiar
way during the proceedings, and had been a source of much fascinated
interest to the dogs. On its being opened a fat, waddling, brindle
bull-dog puppy sidled himself out of a warm bed, and made straight for
the General's feet. A puppy was something Sir Denis never could resist,
and though there were already several dogs at Sherwood Square, all
desperately jealous at the moment and being held in by the servants, he
discovered that he had wanted a brindled bull-dog all his life.

"But what is that," he asked, "up there at the top of th