l purity of his nature.

To find a home and a mother for Lady Gay had been Timothy's secret
longing ever since he had heard people say that Flossy might die. He
had once enjoyed all the comforts of a Home with a capital H; but it was
the cosy one with the little "h" that he so much desired for her.

Not that he had any ill treatment to remember in the excellent
institution of which he was for several years an inmate. The matron was
an amiable and hard-working woman, who wished to do her duty to all the
children under her care; but it would be an inspired human being indeed
who could give a hundred and fifty motherless or fatherless children all
the education and care and training they needed, to say nothing of the
love that they missed and craved. What wonder, then, that an occasional
hungry little soul, starved for want of something not provided by the
management; say, a morning cuddle in father's bed or a ride on father's
knee,--in short, the sweet daily jumble of lap-trotting, gentle
caressing, endearing words, twilight stories, motherly tucks-in-bed,
good-night kisses,--all the dear, simple, every-day accompaniments of
the home with the little "h."

Timothy Jessup, bred in such an atmosphere, would have gladdened every
life that touched his at any point. Plenty of wistful men and women
would have thanked God nightly on their knees for the gift of such a
son; and here he was, sitting on a tin can, bowed down with family
cares, while thousands of graceless little scalawags were slapping the
faces of their French nurse-maids and bullying their parents, in that
very city.--Ah me!

As for the tiny Lady Gay, she had all the winsome virtues to recommend
her. No one ever feared that she would die young out of sheer goodness.
You would not have loved her so much for what she was as because you
couldn't help yourself. This feat once accomplished, she blossomed into
a thousand graces, each one more bewitching than the last you noted.

Where, in the name of all the sacred laws of heredity, did the child get
her sunshiny nature? Born in misery, and probably in sin, nurtured in
wretchedness and poverty, she had brought her "radiant morning visions"
with her into the world. Like Wordsworth's immortal babe, "with trailing
clouds of glory" had she come, from God who was her home; and the heaven
that lies about us all in our infancy,--that Garden of Eden into which
we are all born, like the first man and the first woman,--that he