now that you have joined us."

"No, my presence would spoil it. A child playing with her kitten needs no
other figures to complete the picture."

"Ah, that spoils your compliment."

"Mr. Winthrop very judiciously mixes his sweets and bitters," Mrs.
Flaxman said with a smile.

"Yes; I should be too vain if he gave me a compliment really. I wonder if
he ever will do that?" I looked up into his face and saw that its
expression was kindly.

"You would not wish me to spoil you. If my praising you made you vain, as
you just said it would, that would be the worst unkindness."

"I want you always to be honest with me. A very slight word of praise
then will have its genuine meaning."

"Now that we have once more settled our relations to each other, we will
take our dinners. One must descend from the highest summits to the
trivialities of eating and drinking."

"I have never seen you very high up yet, Mr. Winthrop. I do not think
there is a spark of sentiment in your composition."

"Alas, that I should be so misjudged. But wait until your friend Bovyer
shows you my tears."

Mrs. Flaxman generally looked a trifle worried when Mr. Winthrop and I
got into conversation. This night, when I wanted every one to be happy,
I held my troublesome tongue in check, and made no further reply to my
guardian's badinage.

When I went to my room for the night, I drew back my curtain and looked
out into the darkness of a cloudy, moonless night. It chilled me, I
wondered if the baby and its father, with the cold, still form of the
once happy mother, had got into the light and warmth of home. I compared
our bright evening together in the drawing-room, where Mr. Winthrop had
sat with us reading, or rather translating as he read, some splendid
passages from his favorite classical authors, a treat not often granted,
but he was, I fancied, too tired to read or study in his library alone. I
too had tried to add my share to the evening's entertainment; singing
mostly some German home songs to an accompaniment on the piano. He had
not criticised my performance, a fact very encouraging to me.

But now, as I stood looking out into the black night, I thought of their
journey over the rough roads, already beginning to freeze, the baby cold
and hungry, and so tired. I turned hurriedly from the window and knelt to
say my prayers, a new element entering into my petitions. Forgetting the
stereotyped phrases, I remembered with peculiar vividness the i