is doing it. You've noticed how much brighter
she seems?"

"Yes, I've noticed," said Mrs Ellis, nodding her head as she prepared
the supper. "She was actually singing gently to herself this morning
over her work, just as she used to, and you don't know, James dear, what
a lot of good it did me."

"Oh, yes, I do--oh, yes, I do," said the bailiff, nodding his head. "Of
course it would, mother."

"Yes, dear, it did, for it has been cruel work for me to see her going
about the house in that heart-breaking way."

"Humph! Of course, and for me too."

"No, James, you're at home so little. You have your meals and sit with
me of an evening, and at such times there's something going on to make
the poor dear busy. But as soon as you're out of sight it has been
dreadful again. I've seen a deal more of her poor heart-breaking than
you have, and there have been times when--"

"Heart-breaking! Stuff and nonsense!" cried James Ellis petulantly.

"Ah, you don't know," said his wife, shaking her head at him sadly.

"Don't know what, you silly woman? There, that sounds like
heart-breaking, doesn't it?"

For at that moment, plainly heard, came the sound of Mary's voice
singing the old English song, "Robin Adair"; and as the notes reached
his ear, James Ellis smiled, held his head on one side, swayed it to the
melody, and began softly to hum over the plaintive tune.

"_Rob_--_in_--_er_--_her_--_dair_," sang James Ellis. "Well done,
little lassie! Talk about a voice, mother, why it's as sweet as a
bird's."

"Yes, dear, but I wish she wouldn't sing such sad things--it puts me in
mind of the robins in the autumn time."

"I wish you wouldn't be so melancholy, mother. You're enough to put a
whole regiment of soldiers out of spirits, let alone a poor girl. Here,
hold your tongue now. Here she comes."

Footsteps were heard upon the stairs, and the foot was more springy than
it had been of late, as Mary entered the room.

"Ready for supper, father dear?" said Mary, going behind his chair,
placing her arms about his neck, and drawing his head back so that she
could lay her cheek against his forehead.

"Ready, my pet? Of course I am;" and
"_Rob_--_in_--_er_--_her_--_dair_," he sang. "That's the way. I'm glad
to hear you tune up a bit. It's like the birds in spring corn: and
mother wants it, for of all the melancholy old women that ever lived,
she's about the worst."

_Click_!

"Hallo! Who's that at the gate?