ought you would like to see him,
Meta."

"I hope I shall know the Miss Mays some time or other."

"That is the prettiest little fairy I ever did see!" was Dr. May's
remark, as Norman drove from the door.

"How good-natured they are!" said Norman; "I just said something about
Margaret, and she gave me all these flowers. How Margaret will be
delighted! I wish the girls could see it all!"

"So you got on well with the ladies, did you?"

"They were very kind to me. It was very pleasant!" said Norman, with a
tone of enjoyment that did his father's heart good.

"I was glad you should come in. Such a curiosity shop is a sight, and
those pictures were some of them well worth seeing. That was a splendid
Titian."

"That cast of the Pallas of the Parthenon--how beautiful it was--I knew
it from the picture in Smith's dictionary. Mr. Rivers said he would show
me all his antiques if you would bring me again."

"I saw he liked your interest in them. He is a good, kind-hearted
dilettante sort of old man; he has got all the talk of the literary,
cultivated society in London, and must find it dullish work here."

"You liked him, didn't you?"

"He is very pleasant; I found he knew my old friend, Benson, whom I had
not seen since we were at Cambridge together, and we got on that and
other matters; London people have an art of conversation not learned
here, and I don't know how the time slipped away; but you must have been
tolerably tired of waiting."

"Not to signify," said Norman. "I only began to think he must be very
ill; I hope there is not much the matter with him."

"I can't say. I am afraid there is organic disease, but I think it may
be kept quiet a good while yet, and he may have a pleasant life for some
time to come, arranging his prints, and petting his pretty daughter. He
has plenty to fall back upon."

"Do you go there again?"

"Yes, next week. I am glad of it. I shall like to have another look at
that little Madonna of his--it is the sort of picture that does one good
to carry away in one's eye. Whay! Stop. There's an old woman in here. It
is too late for Fordholm, but these cases won't wait."

He went into the cottage, and soon returned, saying, "Fine new blankets,
and a great kettle of soup, and such praises of the ladies at the
Grange!" And, at the next house, it was the same story. "Well, 'tis no
mockery now to tell the poor creatures they want nourishing food. Slices
of meat and bottles of port wine ra