ing for him. Dot was
awake and singing to herself in her usual chuckling fashion in the
firelight, but Olivia had no time to play with her pet.

"The bellows are no good, Martha," she said, quickly. "You must just
fetch a bundle of sticks and a newspaper, and relay the fire, while I
kindle the lamp and set the table for tea; the room feels like a vault."

"There is a good fire in the kitchen, ma'am, if you want to make
toast," observed Martha, rising reluctantly from her knees; "I have
been ironing Miss Baby's pinnys." Olivia, who was drawing the heavy
curtain across the window, was relieved to hear this.

In another quarter of an hour the little room wore a more cheerful
aspect. The sticks crackled and blazed lustily; the green-shaded lamp
diffused a mellow light. The tea-tray was set and the plate of French
toast was frizzling gently on a brass trivet. At the sound of her
master's footstep Martha had orders to fill up the teapot and boil the
eggs.

After this Olivia played with Dot, and undressed her, and then brought
her in to say good-night to her father. But she waxed sleepy long
before he let himself in with his latch-key.

Marcus paused on the threshold a moment as though something struck him.
Olivia's face looked fair and sweet as she sat in her low chair with
the sleepy child in her arms. She put back her head with a soft
questioning smile as he bent down to kiss her face.

"Dot is nearly asleep, but I had not the heart to put her in her cot
until you had seen her; tea is quite ready, and Martha is boiling some
new-laid eggs. Aunt Madge has sent you, too, a pot of her home-made
marmalade, because she knows how fond you are of it. Sit down and
begin, I shall not be a moment," and Olivia's voice was so full of
suppressed excitement, that Marcus laughed as he drew his chair to the
table; he was tired and hungry, but he no longer felt impatient and
depressed.

"Now tell me everything," she exclaimed, when she came back. "What
have you done? Was the foot very bad? Will you have to go to
Galvaston House again?"

"Rather!" returned Marcus; "it is a pretty bad sprain, I can tell you.
Why, I should not be surprised if Mr. Gaythorne is laid up for the next
two or three weeks; he is not in good condition and the shaking and
fright have upset him. He will want good nursing and plenty of
attention, as I told his housekeeper. I am going again early in the
morning."

"And was he civil to you? Mrs.