as true. "You will stay, of course! Just in time to
see James eat his first dinner, like a man! Now Jemmie, wipe his pretty
mouth, and then give Auntie Agatha a sweet kiss."

Agatha submitted to the kiss, though she did not quite believe in the
adjective; and felt a certain satisfaction in knowing that the title of
"Auntie" was a mere compliment. She did not positively dislike children,
else she would have been only half a woman, or a woman so detestable as
to be an anomaly in creation; but her philoprogenitiveness was, to say
the least, dormant at present; and her sense of infantile beauty being
founded on Sir Joshua's and Murillo's cherubs, she had no great fancy
for the ugly little James.

She laid aside her bonnet, and smoothing her curls in the nursery
mirror, looked for one minute at her Pawnee-Indian face, the sight of
which now often made her smile. Then she sat down to lunch with Emma and
the children; being allowed, as a great favour, to be placed next Master
James, and drink with him out of his silver mug. Miss Bowen accepted the
offered honour calmly, made no remark, but--went thirsty.

For an hour or two she sat patiently listening to what had gone on in
the house since she was there---how baby had cut two more teeth, and
James had had a new braided frock--(which was sent for that she might
look at it)--how Missy had been to her first children's party, and was
to learn dancing at Midsummer, if papa could be coaxed to agree.

"How is Mr. Thornycroft?" asked Agatha.

"Oh, very well--papa is always well. I only wish the little ones took
after him in that respect."

Agatha, who was old enough to remember Emma engaged, and Emma newly
married, smiled to think how entirely the lover beloved and the
all-important young husband had dwindled into a mere "Papa;" liked and
obeyed in a certain fashion, for Emma was a good wife, but evidently
made a very secondary consideration to "the children."

The young girl--as yet neither married, nor in love--wondered if this
were always so. She often had such wonderings and speculation when she
came to Emma's house.

She was growing rather tired of so much domestic information, and had
secretly taken out her watch to see how many hours it would be to dinner
and to Mr. Thornycroft, a sensible, intelligent man, who from love to
his wife had been always very kind to his wife's friends--when there
came the not unwelcome sound of a knock at the hall-door.

"Bless me; that is