about it," said George Paterson, as he and Maggie set
out together.

The gardens of the two pretty neat houses were divided by low iron
railings. One was inhabited by Mr. Boyd, old Susan, and Mrs. Chanter
and her darling Joy; the other by Mrs. Skinner and Bet and Patience
Harrison.

"I can't part with the child," Uncle Bobo had said: "I'd rather cut off
my right arm." And, indeed, parting from the little dark shop in the
row, and the darker parlour behind it, where he had lived for so many
years, had been almost like cutting off a right arm to Uncle Bobo. But
when he heard the doctors say that little Miss Joy ought to have fresh
air, and that the bedroom where she lay so patiently week after week,
with only the occasional variety of being carried "to the leads," where
the memorable tea-parties used to be held, was not healthful for her,
he decided to sell the business, and remove. What a removal it was!
and even now Uncle Bobo said the light was too much for his eyes, and
that he liked the shade of the row better than the glare of the sea.
But little Miss Joy was so dear to the old man's heart, that he gave
even this great proof of his love. The two little houses, away from
the bustle and noise of the busy seaport, were hired, and the
sitting-room was to be let this season, with one bedroom, to any
visitor to Yarmouth who would like the quiet, broken only by the
distant murmur of the sea, or the voice of birds in the low copses
which had been planted round a house of some pretension not far off.

As soon as George Paterson and Aunt Maggie were gone, Joy said--

"Bet, go and ask dear Goody to come here. I want her so much."

"What do you want, my lamb?" Uncle Bobo said. "Hi, Mrs. Harrison, you
are wanted. Little Miss Joy wants you."

That name had always a charm about it, and Mrs. Harrison raised
herself, and went slowly, and like one in a dream, down the narrow
garden path, out at the little gate, and in at the next. She was met
by Bet, who threw her arms round her, and said--"You go and sit with
Joy while I go to poor grannie. Oh, I am sorry for grannie; but I _am_
glad for you!"

"Here, Mrs. Harrison, take my chair," Uncle Bobo said, "and sit by the
child. You'll feel better then. She is the peace-maker--bless
her--and every one is the better for being alongside of her."

Yes; it was most true. When Susan was put out with new-fangled ways;
when Mrs. Skinner relapsed into her old silence, only br