Is she
ill?"

"Oh, no, only lame," replied the doctor, as he placed his burden in a
chair opposite to the old man.

"Now, Sophy," he admonished, "you will be a pleasant companion to this
gentleman until my return."

Sophy eyed her neighbour doubtfully.

"I'll try to," she replied, and so the doctor left them.

For some time this strangely assorted pair eyed each other in silence.
At length Sophy's gaze rested on the old man's foot where it lay in its
large slipper on the stool before him.

"I see you are broken too," she said in a sympathetic voice. "It isn't
really pleasant to be broken, is it, although we try to pretend we don't
care, don't we?"

"No, it isn't exactly pleasant," replied Mr. Waldron, and a half-smile
flickered over his face. "How did you get broken?"

"Somebody let me fall, father says, and afterwards I was only
half-mended. It is horrid to be only a half-mended thing--but some
people are so stupid, you know."

Mr. Waldron grunted.

"Does it hurt you to speak that you make that funny noise?" asked Sophy
curiously.

"I'm an old man, and I do as I like."

"Oh! When I'm an old woman may I do as I like?"

"I suppose so," grudgingly.

"Then I shall be an awfully nice old woman; I shouldn't like to be cross
and ugly. I don't like ugly people, and there are so many going about
loose. I am always so glad I like my father's face."

"Why?"

"Because I have to see it every, every day. Have you anybody whose face
you like?"

"No; I haven't."

"What a pity! I wonder if you like mine--or perhaps you would like
father's. It does seem a shame you shouldn't have somebody."

"I do very well without."

"Oh no, I'm sure you don't," replied Sophy with deep concern. "You may
do somehow, but you can't do well."

"What's your father like?" asked Mr. Waldron, amused in spite of
himself.

"My father's like a song," returned Sophy, as though she had given the
subject much reflection.

"A song! How's that?"

"Sometimes he is gay--full of jokes and laughter, sometimes he is sad,
and I cry softly to myself in bed; but he is always beautiful, you
know--like a song."

"And your mother?"

[Sidenote: "It is Lonely Sometimes"]

"I haven't got a mother," replied Sophy sadly. "That's where I'm only
half like other little girls. My mother was frightened, and so was the
little brother who was coming to play with me. They were both
frightened, and so they ran away back again to God. I wish they had
st