ear of a remonstrance on letting him touch a
book.

One day Mrs. Nesbit suddenly said to Theodora, 'Arthur's wife and
children are here, are not they?'

'Yes; Violet would have come to see you, but we doubted if you were
equal to it.'

'I have nothing to say to Mr. Moss's daughter, but bring that eldest boy
here, I want to see him.'

Theodora stepped out into the gallery, where Johnnie was often to be
found curled up in the end window, poring over and singing to himself
the "White Doe of Rylstone", which he had found among his uncle's books.

She led him in, exhorting him not to be shy, and to speak out boldly in
answer to Aunt Nesbit; but perhaps this only frightened him more. Very
quiet and silent, he stood under his aunt's wing with eyes cast down,
answering with a trembling effort the questions asked in that sharp
searching tone.

'His mother all over!' she said, motioning him away; but, the next day,
she sent for him again. Poor Johnnie did not like it at all; he could
hardly help shuddering at her touch, and at night begged his mamma not
to send him to Aunt Nesbit; for he could not bear it without her. She
had to represent that Aunt Nesbit was old and ill, and that it would
be unkind not to go to her: but then came the difficult question, 'Why
don't you go, mamma?' However, when his compassionate feelings were
aroused, he bore it better; and though he never got beyond standing
silently by her chair for ten minutes, replying when spoken to, and
once or twice reading a few sentences, or repeating some verses, when
Theodora thought it would please her, it was evident that his visit had
become the chief event of her day. One day she gave him a sovereign,
and asked what he would do with it. He blushed and hesitated, and she
suggested, 'Keep it, that will be the wisest.'

'No,' came with an effort, and an imploring glance at Aunt Theodora.

'Well, then, what? Speak out like a man!' Still reluctant, but it was
brought out at last: 'Cousin Hugh told us about the poor sick Irish
children that have no potatoes. May I give it to him to send them?'

'Never mind the Irish children. This is for yourself.'

'Myself?' Johnnie looked up, bewildered, but with a sudden thought,
'Oh! I know, Aunt Theodora, won't it buy that pretty work-basket to
give mamma on her birthday? She said she could not afford it. And Helen
wanted the great donkey in the shop-window. Oh! I can get Helen the
great donkey; thank you, Aunt Nesbit!'