nner had he.

"Well, little woman, I've read your mother's letter. I never intended to
be troubled with any more children after Oscar fell to my lot; but for
your mother's sake, and her mother's before her, I can't shut my door
against you. So now stay, and see if you can't open another door on your
own account." This is what he said, still holding her hand in his.

"Do you know what door I mean?" he asked, as the child darted an upward
glance at him.

"Yes," she nodded, "yes." She could not say more, her heart was thumping
so, but her small twining fingers in the doctor's palm told him a great
deal.

He patted her on the head, and let her go; he did not kiss her. Inna
wished he had when, later on, she was in bed, thinking of the many
to-morrows she was to spend in this new uncle's house. Her chamber was
up in one of the gables of the quaint old house; the windows overlooked
the garden and the home orchard, where, in the former, Michaelmas
daisies and sunflowers flaunted in the sunshine when she looked out the
next morning, and apples, rosy and golden, were waiting to be gathered
in the latter. Birds were twittering and peeping at her through the
ivy-wreathed window; away in the stubble fields, under the hills, sheep
were straying, all in a glory of golden light; while rooks cawed and
clamoured in the many-coloured elms by the house and garden, and all
sweet morning freshness was everywhere. You may be sure she soon
dressed, and tripped down the old-fashioned staircase--a dainty midge,
in blue serge frock and white-bibbed apron. Below, she found Mary, the
servant under the housekeeper, laying breakfast in the dining-room; and
while the child stood shyly aloof by a window, in came Mrs. Grant with
the urn, and her master behind her. Inna stepped forward, but her uncle
took no notice of her; he only passed on to his seat at the table, took
up his letters and newspaper, and, as it were, thus stepped into a world
of his own. Oscar stole in like a thief, and began his usual
tea-making--placing a cup by his uncle's plate, upon which he laid
slices of ham, carved as best he could; Inna, at a nod from him, cutting
a piece of bread to keep company with the ham; while Mrs. Grant gave
sundry nods, which the boy understood and returned, then she retired
from the scene. Not a word was spoken during breakfast-time. Oscar
helped himself and Inna to what the table afforded--ham, eggs, rolls,
honey, golden butter--all so sweet and cl