about that. No one could
be more different than this mild old man, who kept on saying kind things
in his cracked voice. Elsie, watching him very narrowly, thought she saw
something that reminded her of the Uncle William who had so mysteriously
disappeared, and wondered whether this might be really his father. Yet
that did not make his presence there any the less mysterious.

One effect this incident had on Elsie's mind was to make her stand more
than ever in awe of her strange companions. She could not get rid of a
half belief that they could do really whatever they liked with both her
and Duncan. Although she had not any real faith in their goodness, she
had certainly a great dread of their strange power.

The journey was a long one, with few stoppages. The train flew on at a
frightful pace through the hill country, where from the windows could be
seen the bare bleak peaks of Cumberland, varied with nearer slopes of
soft green grass and verdant valleys. On, on through the great grimy
towns of the manufacturing counties; on and on through dark tunnels,
swinging round curves, over rivers, skirting woods, still rushing on,
with an occasional shriek and scream, as of relentless fury; still on
and on, long after the day had closed and the stars had begun to twinkle
in the sky, till at last the great goal of London was reached.

There is now a gathering together of parcels and packages. The old
gentleman, Grandpapa Donaldson, sets them down on the seat, and fumbles
at the door. "Why doesn't that idiot unlock it?" he mutters, in a tone
that brings strangely to mind the adventure on the lonely road where she
first saw the "fairy mother."

"Don't be impatient, father," Mrs. Donaldson exclaims in a wavering
voice; and Elsie, looking up at her, sees that her face is pale and her
lips tightly set.

She draws a long black veil over her face as she stands waiting.
Presently a porter comes. The door is opened. Two men spring into the
carriage, and close the door after them.

"The game is up! you are my prisoners!" falls in dreadful tones on poor
Elsie's frightened ears.

(_To be continued._)

HOW TO MAKE PRETTY PICTURE-FRAMES.

"Your room looks so pretty, Nellie," sighed my cousin Bella; "you should
just see mine at home; it's as bare as a barrack."

"Why don't you improve it, then?" was my practical rejoinder.

"Why, it costs such a lot," answered Bella.

"My decorations are very inexpensive, I assure you," sa