t as she did at first. Indeed, she gets no real rest
day nor night, and there's no relieving her!'

'She says you don't get much rest either.'

'More than my share,' said Mark. 'The poor little thing never sleeps
except in someone's arms, and if awake, is not content for a moment
except in her mother's.'

'And that has been going on four months?'

'Three. Ever since we brought her back from Redcastle. I have nearly
determined to move into some suburb when I get a rise at Michaelmas,
unless she improves.'

'Nurse might suggest something.'

'Or at any rate tell us what to think. We showed her to a doctor, and
all he could propose was some kind of food, which was no more
successful than the rest. Did you look at her, Nuttie? She is a
pretty little thing when she is quiet, but she dwindles away--at least
so it seems to me, though Annaple will not see it, and--and if we are
not permitted to keep the little one, I dread what the effect may be on
her.'

Nuttie said something about bravery and goodness, thinking in her heart
that, if the blow fell, it would be better for all than the perpetual
suffering of the poor little sickly being.

'Ah! you don't know what her affections are,' said Mark. 'You did not
see her when she lost her mother, and there had been no strain on her
powers then. However, I've no business to croak. Many a child gets
over troubles of this kind, and, as Annaple says, little Jenny will be
all the more to us for what we go through with her.'

The carriage stopped, and Nuttie asked him if it would delay him too
long if she executed a commission about her father's glasses. He had
plenty of time, but she was delayed longer than she expected, and on
her return was surprised to find that he had dropped asleep.

'Ah! that's what comes of a moment's quiet;' he said, smiling.

'Fine quiet in the roar of Ludgate Hill!'

'To a Cockney 'tis as the mill to the miller! I like the full stir and
tide,' he added, looking out upon it. 'I never knew what life was
before!'

'I should have thought you never knew what hardness and hard work were.'

'That's just it,' he answered, smiling. 'The swing of it is
exhilaration--very different from being a cumberer of the ground.'

'Oh, Mark, all the privations and anxiety!'

'The privation! that's nothing. Indeed I am afraid--yes, I am ashamed
to say--it falls more on my dear wife than myself, but if we can only
wear through a year or two we shall get