e!"
shouted the men as they staggered off.

Mr. Dugdale stood looking after them with that mild benevolent smile
which made his ugly face quite beautiful--at least Agatha thought
so;--which was very generous in her, seeing he had not taken the least
notice of her all this while; when he did, it was in the most passing
way.

"Eh--what, Missus? did you say Mrs. Harper was here?" He shook hands
with her, looking in another direction;--then again turned to Nathanael.

"Utterly useless!" cried Harrie, laughing. "He's more misty than usual
to-day. Let us leave the men alone, stupid bears as they are! and come
up-stairs to the children."

All this time no one asked or looked for Miss Valery, who had lingered
behind, bidding them go forward. It seemed the habit of the family that
she should be left to go about in her own fashion, interfered with by
nobody, and attended by nobody, save when she came among them to do them
good. It was not wonderful; since, having passed that time of youth when
a pleasant woman is everybody's petted darling, she had lived to feel
herself alone in the world--wife, sister, and child to no one. It always
takes a certain amount of moral courage to meet that destiny.

Aided by the beneficial influence of dinner, which in the Dugdales'
house seemed to have the mysterious property of extending over an
indefinite time, Agatha had succeeded in making friends with her
"nephews" to say nothing of a lovely little niece, who would persist in
putting chubby arms round "Pa's" neck, and dividing his attention sorely
between Free-trade and rice-pudding. Mr. Harper had taken another child
on his knee, and was cutting oranges and doing "Uncle Nathanael" to
perfection. His wife stole beside him with affection. Why would he not
be always as now? Why was he so good, so gentle to others, yet so hard
to be understood by her? Was it her own fault? She almost believed so.

On this group, all happy, all united together by those lovely links in
the chain of happiness--little children--Anne Valery entered. She passed
round the table, having a word, or smile, or kiss for all. Then she
went to an arm-chair, looking tired, though joining all the while in the
conversation, particularly with Mr. Dugdale, who seemed to have a great
regard for her.

"Ah, Miss Valery, I wish you were a man, and could vote for us!" said
he, peering from underneath the baby-hands which made a pointed Norman
arch over "Pa's" eyes. "You'd be sure