nd
openness, came over her. "He got off the train here. You know he
began school, too, at Wardway this morning, and he and Gladys both
went."

"Well, I'm thankful you had him along," said Harry. "The Lord only
knows what you two girls would have done alone in a city like New
York. You must never do such a thing again, whatever happens, Maria.
You might as well run right into a den of wild beasts. Only think of
that child going to New York, and coming out on the last train, with
that Mann girl; and Wollaston is only a boy, though he's bright and
smart. And your cousin has moved, Ida."

"I thought she had," said Ida.

"And to think of what those children might have got into," said
Harry, "in a city like New York, which is broken out all over with
plague spots instead of having them in one place! Only think of it,
Ida!"

Harry's voice was almost sobbing. It seemed as if he fairly appealed
to his wife for sympathy, with his consciousness of the dangers
through which his child had passed. But Ida only said, "Yes."

"And the baby might have fallen into the worst hands," said Harry.
"But, thank God, a good woman, although she was coarse enough, got
hold of her."

"Yes, we can't be thankful enough," Ida said, smoothly, and then
Josephine came in with a tray and a silver cup of hot milk for Evelyn.

"Is that all the milk Annie heated?" asked Harry.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, tell Annie to go to the sideboard and get that bottle of
port-wine and pour out a glass for Miss Maria; and, Josephine, you
had better bring her something to eat with it. You haven't had any
supper, have you, child?"

Maria shook her head. "I don't want any, thank you, papa," said she.

"Is there any cold meat, Josephine, do you know?"

Josephine said there was some cold roast beef.

"Well, bring Miss Maria a plate, with a slice of bread-and-butter,
and some beef."

"Have you had any supper yourself, dear?" Ida asked.

"I declare I don't know, dear," replied Harry, who looked unutterably
worn and tired. "No, I think not. I don't know when I could have got
it. No, I know I have not."

"Josephine," said Ida, "tell Annie to broil a piece of beefsteak for
Mr. Edgham, and make a cup of tea."

"Thank you, dear," poor Harry said, gratefully. Then he said to
Maria, "Will you wait and have some hot beefsteak and tea with papa,
darling?"

Maria shook her head.

"I think she had better eat the cold beef and bread, and drink the
wine, and go at onc