the centre of her lifetime's
sheet.

The big man's heart thrilled with pity. He longed to open his wide,
protecting arms and fold the fragile creature to his breast; she seemed
so sweet, so brave, yet so lonely.

But he answered bluntly enough:--

"Produce the youngster. I suppose she'll call me 'Dot Dandy' as the
other kids used to!"

Phoebe was absent for a few moments, and then returned with a toddling
article, half embroidery, half flesh, with cheeks like apples, and eyes
wide with youthful criticism.

"This is Doctor Danby," introduced her parent, lifting the child and
placing her on the guest's capacious knee, though still supporting the
tiny waist with an assuring hand.

He and the juvenile scanned each other carefully. The grey eyes, the
bronze curls, and rosy mouth--they were the exact presentments of her
mother. He stooped and kissed them one by one.

Before an outsider he would have been for ever compromised, but fond
mammas can see nothing extraordinary in any affectionate demonstration
towards their offspring!

"Who am I, Phoebe?" asked he, dwelling tenderly on the name shared alike
by parent and child.

"Ow is Dot Dandy," was the lisped reply. "Mammy, is Dot Dandy nice?"

Mrs Cameron hurriedly lifted the loquacious imp from its impromptu
perch. Again "Dot" noticed a delicious flush on the transparent cheek,
and his heart leaped within him.

"Pooh!" sneered the inward mentor again, "the lassie is substantial--too
substantial for any woman to carry without colouring!"

"Mammy, is Dot Dandy nice?" clamoured Phoebe minor again.

Her mother took the precaution of ringing for the nurse before replying.

"Yes, darling. Very nice."

That time she _did_ blush. Ralph could have sworn it!

How he reached home he never knew. The biggest men are the largest fools
sometimes. His enormous heart drew its own pattern of her perfections,
and coloured it with her beauty round and about. Her reflections of him
never extended beyond the locality of her brain. He did not look half
smart out of uniform--was awkward as ever, but kind-hearted, and her
baby liked him! If it were ill, he would be the person to send for. But
Phoebe must be taught not to chatter! Had it been anyone else but
Dot----!

Danby's coachman, when not cogitating on the off-chances suggested by
"straight tips" from stablemen in the mews, used to puzzle himself in
the days which followed at the frequency of the doctor's visits to the
tiny