e matter? Mrs. Copley isn't worse, I hope?"

"No, I think not," said Dolly, going back to her rose-pulling, with a
hand that trembled.

"May I help you? What are all these roses for? Why, you've got a lot of
'em. How do you like Brierley, Miss Dolly? It likes you. I never saw
you look better. How does your mother fancy it?"

"Mother has taken a fancy to travel. She thinks she would like that
better than being still in one place."

"Travel! Where to? Where does she want to go?"

"She talks of Venice. But I do not know whether father could leave his
post."

"I should say he couldn't, without the post leaving him. But, I say,
Miss Dolly! maybe Mrs. Copley would let me be her travelling-courier,
instead. I should like that famously. Venice--and we might run down and
see Rome. Hey? What do you think of it?"

Dolly answered coolly, inwardly resolving she would have no more to say
about travelling before Mr. St. Leger. However, in the evening he
brought up the subject himself; and Mrs. Copley and he went into it
eagerly, and spent a delightful evening over plans for a possible
journey; talking of routes, and settling upon stopping places. Dolly
was glad to see her mother pleased and amused, even so; but herself
took no sort of part in the talk. Next day Mr. Copley in truth arrived,
and was joyfully received.

"Well, how do you do?" said he, after the first rejoicings were over,
looking from his wife to his daughter and back again. It was the third
or fourth time he had asked the question. "Pretty jolly, eh? Dolly is.
_You_ are not, my dear, seems to me."

"You are not either, it seems to me, Mr. Copley."

"I? I am well enough."

"You are not 'jolly,' father?" said Dolly, hanging upon him.

"Why not? Yes, I am. A man can't be very jolly that has anything to do
in this world."

"O father! I should think, to have nothing to do would be what would
hinder jolliness."

"Anything to do but enjoy, I mean. I don't mean _nothing_ to do. But it
ain't life, to live for business."

"Then, if I were you, I would play a little, Mr. Copley," said his wife.

"So I do. Here I am," said he, with what seemed to Dolly forced gaiety.
"Now, how are you going to help me play?"

"_We_ help _you_," said his wife. "Why didn't you come yesterday?"

"Business, my dear; as I said. These are good berries. Do they grow in
the garden?"

"How should strawberries grow in a garden where nobody has been
living?" said his wife. "And what