the little girl had divided with his
profession the doctor's days. Every morning after breakfast he stood to
watch the trim, sturdy, round little figure dance down the steps, step
primly down the walk, turn at the gate to throw a kiss, and then march
away along the street to the corner where another kiss would greet him
before the final vanishing. Every day they met at noon to exchange on
equal terms the experiences of the morning. Every night they closed the
day with dinner and family prayers, the little girl gravely taking her
part in the reading during the last year from her mother's Bible. And so
it came that with the years their friendship grew in depth, in frankness
and in tenderness. The doctor was widely read beyond the literature of
his profession, and every day for a half hour it was his custom to
share with the little girl the treasures of his library. The little maid
repaid him with a passionate love and a quaint mothering care tender and
infinitely comforting to the lonely man.

The forenoon had been hot and trying, and Dr. Brown, having been
detained in his office beyond his regular hour, had been more than
usually hurried in his round of morning calls, and hence was more than
ordinarily tired with his morning's work. At his door the little girl
met him.

"Come in, Papa, I know you're hot," she said, love and reproach in her
face, "because I was hot myself, and you will need a nice, cool drink.
I had one and yours is in here." She led him into the study, hovering
about him with little touches and pushes. "You ought not to have taken
so long a round this morning," she said with gentle severity. "I know
you went out to St. James to see Mrs. Kale, and you know quite well she
doesn't need you. It would do in the afternoon. And it was awful hot in
school."

"Awful?" said the doctor.

"Well, very exceedingly then--and the kids were very tired and Miss
Mutton was as cross as anything."

"It was no wonder. How many kids were there for her to watch?"

"Oh, Papa, you said 'kids!'"

"I was just quoting my young daughter."

"And she said we were to get out this afternoon an hour earlier,"
continued Jane, ignoring his criticism, "and so I am going to take my
bicycle and go with Nora and the girls down to the freight sheds."

"The freight sheds?"

"Yes, Larry and Joe have come in, and Rover and Rosie--she's the cow,
and they milked her every day twice and drank the milk and they used to
have their meals tog