ooked in all the clothes papa wore when he came home, and he did not
bring home his portmanteau.'

'Come home! Where had he been?'

'I don't know. He was away a long time.'

Lord Martindale started, and repeated the words in amaze. Theodora
better judged of a child's 'long time,' and asked whether it meant a day
or a week. 'Was it since the baby was born that he went?'

'Baby was a week old. He was gone one--two Sundays, and he came back all
on a sudden the day before yesterday, coughing so much that he could not
speak, and the gentleman told mamma all about it.'

'What gentleman, Johnnie? Was it Mr. Gardner?'

'O no; this was a good-natured gentleman.'

'Mr. Herries, or Captain Fitzhugh?'

'No, it was a long name, and some one I never saw before; but I think it
was the man that belongs to the owl.'

'What can the child mean?' asked Lord Martindale.

Johnnie mounted a chair, and embraced his little stuffed owl.

'The man that gave me this.'

'Percy's Athenian owl!' cried Theodora.

'Was Fotheringham the name?' said Lord Martindale.

'Yes, it was the name like Aunt Helen's,' said Johnnie.

'Has he been here since?'

'He called to inquire yesterday morning. I am not sure,' said the exact
little boy, 'but I think he said he met papa in the steamer.'

It seemed mystery on mystery, and James could only confirm his young
master's statement. After the little boy had answered all the questions
in his power he slid down from his grandfather's knee, saying that it
was bed-time, and wished them good night in a grave, sorrowful, yet
childlike manner, that went to their hearts. He returned, in a short
time, with a message that mamma thought papa a little better and ready
to see them. Theodora went up first; Johnnie led her to the door, and
then went away, while Violet said, almost inaudibly,

'Here is Theodora come to see you.'

Prepared as Theodora was, she was startled by the bloodlessness of the
face, and the hand that lay without movement on the coverlet, while the
gaze of the great black eyes met her with an almost spectral effect; and
the stillness was only broken by the painful heaving of the chest,
which seemed to shake even the bed-curtains. But for Violet's looks and
gesture, Theodora would not have dared to go up to him, take his hand,
and, on finding it feebly return her pressure, bend over and kiss his
forehead.

'His breath is certainly relieved, and there is less fever,' repeated
Violet; but t