laimed:

"Ah, here already, Traverse? That is punctual. This is my daughter
Clara, Traverse; Clare, this is Traverse you've heard me speak about.
But I daresay you've already become acquainted," concluded the doctor,
drawing his chair up to the reading table, sitting down and folding his
dressing-gown around his limbs.

"Well, Traverse, how is the little mother?" he presently inquired.

"I was just telling Miss Day that she was much better, sir," said
Traverse.

"Ah, ha, ha, ha!" muttered the doctor to himself; "that's kitchen
physic--roast turkey and port wine--and moral medicine, hope--and mental
medicine, sympathy."

"Well, Traverse," he said aloud, "I have been racking my brain for a
plan for your mother, and to no purpose. Traverse, your mother should be
in a home of peace, plenty and cheerfulness--I can speak before my
little Clare here; I never have any secrets from her. Your mother wants
good living, cheerful company and freedom from toil and care. The
situation of gentleman's or lady's housekeeper in some home of
abundance, where she would be esteemed as a member of the family, would
suit her. But where to find such a place? I have been inquiring--without
mentioning her name, of course--among all my friends, but not one of
them wants a housekeeper or knows a soul who does want one; and so I am
'at sea on the subject.' I'm ashamed of myself for not succeeding
better."

"Oh, sir, do not do yourself so great an injustice," said Traverse.

"Well, the fact is, after boasting so confidently that I would find a
good situation for Mrs. Rocke, lo and behold! I have proved myself as
yet only a boaster."

"Father," said Clara, turning upon him her sweet eyes.

"Well, my love?"

"Perhaps Mrs. Rocke would do us the favor to come here and take charge
of our household."

"Eh! What? I never thought of that! I never had a housekeeper in my
life!" exclaimed the doctor.

"No, sir; because you never needed one before, but now we really do.
Aunt Moggy has been a very faithful and efficient manager, although she
is a colored woman; but she is getting very old."

"Yes, and deaf and blind and careless. I know she is. I have no doubt in
the world she scours the coppers with the table napkins and washes her
face and hands in the soup tureen."

"Oh, father!" said Clara.

"Well, Clare, at least she wants looking after."

"Father, she wants rest in her old age."

"No doubt of it; no doubt of it."

"And, father, I i