childish voice were heard echoing in the domed hall
outside. Small feet came pattering, and the drawing-room door was burst
open by Roger Barnes, holding a little girl of nearly two and a half by
the hand.

Lady Barnes composed herself. It is necessary to smile at children, and
she endeavoured to satisfy her own sense of it.

"Come in, Beatty; come and kiss granny!" And Lady Barnes held out her
arms.

But the child stood still, surveyed her grandmother with a pair of
startling eyes, and then, turning, made a rush for the door. But her
father was too quick for her. He closed it with a laugh, and stood with
his back to it. The child did not cry, but, with flaming cheeks, she
began to beat her father's knees with her small fists.

"Go and kiss granny, darling," said Roger, stroking her dark head.

Beatty turned again, put both her hands behind her, and stood immovable.

"Not kiss granny," she said firmly. "Don't love granny."

"Oh, Beatty"--Mrs. French knelt down beside her--"come and be a good
little girl, and I'll show you picture-books."

"I not Beatty--I Jemima Ann," said the small thin voice. "Not be a dood
dirl--do upstairs."

She looked at her father again, and then, evidently perceiving that he
was not to be moved by force, she changed her tactics. Her delicate,
elfish face melted into the sweetest smile; she stood on tiptoe, holding
out to him her tiny arms. With a laugh of irrepressible pride and
pleasure, Roger stooped to her and lifted her up. She nestled on his
shoulder--a small Odalisque, dark, lithe, and tawny, beside her
handsome, fair-skinned father. And Roger's manner of holding and
caressing her showed the passionate affection with which he regarded
her.

He again urged her to kiss her grandmother; but the child again shook
her head. "Then," said he craftily, "father must kiss granny." And he
began to cross the room.

But Lady Barnes stopped him, not without dignity. "Better not press it,
Roger: another time."

Barnes laughed, and yielded. He carried the child away, murmuring to
her, "Naughty, naughty 'ittie girl!"--a remark which Beatty, tucked
under his ear, and complacently sucking her thumb, received with
complete indifference.

"There, you see!" said the grandmother, with slightly flushed cheeks, as
the door closed: "the child has been already taught to dislike me, and
if Roger had attempted to kiss me, she would probably have struck me."

"Oh, no!" cried Mrs. French. "She is a lo