y at each other.

"Well, I can't say I ever saw the doctor come down from the clouds
enough for that," observed Mr. Barlow dryly; "but I hope his little
great-niece--am I right in the pedigree, Oscar?--will set us to rights,
and bring in the age of civilisation for us."

Inna could but laugh a tinkling laugh at this, and asked timidly, "Do
you live here, Mr. Barlow?"

"No, dear; but I'm here morning, noon, and night. My head-quarters are
at Mrs. Tussell's, whose name ought to be, now, guess what?"

People must suppose she had an aptitude for guessing, Inna thought, and
asked with rosy cheeks was it "Fussy"?

"Just the word; only you mustn't tell her so," was the reply; at which
Inna shook her head, and said she could not be so rude. Then came the
sound of the doctor's gig outside the house, a step and a voice in the
passage.

"He'll not come in here, dear," Mr. Barlow told Inna, seeing her start
and change colour; "he'll have a cup of tea in his den, as we call it,"
at which Oscar nodded, and said, "And a good name too!"

Tea over, Mr. Barlow rose, and said "Good-bye for to-night, Miss Inna;
David is going to Jonathan," patted her head, and was gone.

"Is his real name David?" she asked shyly of this cousin she had no idea
of finding at Uncle Jonathan's; nor had her mamma either, she decided in
her own mind.

"No; William--Billy Barlow they call him in the village, only I didn't
say so just now," returned Oscar drily.

"Mind your lessons, Master Oscar," said Mrs. Grant, when she came in to
fetch the tea equipage.

"Fudge!" was the boy's response, he and Inna established on the hearth,
roasting chestnuts; and they were still there when Dr. Willett surprised
them by a footfall close behind them.

Up sprang Inna, like a startled daisy.

"So you're Mercy's little daughter?" said he, by way of greeting.

CHAPTER III.

DR. WILLETT--THE NUTTING EXPEDITION--THE FIRE.

"So you're Mercy's little daughter?" said the doctor, by way of
greeting.

"Yes," faltered Inna; but she put her hand in his; this Uncle Jonathan,
with whom she had come to live, was all she had in England now, except
Oscar and Mr. Barlow, who was nobody as yet. The doctor pressed her
small hand in his big strong one. Tall--taller than his friend
David--was he, with dark hair and beard--at least, they had been dark,
but were fast turning grey; his eyes were dark, piercing, and observant,
full of fire; still, a kindly face, a kindly ma