lone.

It was a consolation to hear the old lady's voice. "My dear--my dear--I
knew you would come. I woke in the night, and thought to myself--she
will come, my lady. Then I rang, and my Ruth came. She comes so quick."

"And then that was just as good as me," said Gwen. "Wasn't it?"

"She is my child--my Ruth. And Phoebe is my Phoebe--years ago! But I
have to think so much, to make it all fit. You are not like that.'

"What am I like?"

"You are the same all through. You came upstairs to me in my room--did
you not?--where my little Dave and Dolly were...."

"Yes--I fetched Dolly."

"And then you put Dolly down? And I said for shame!--what a big girl to
be carried!"

"Yes--and Dolly was carrying little dolly, with her eyes wide open. And
when I put her down on the floor, she repeated what you said all over
again, to little dolly:--'For same, what a bid dirl to be tallied!'"

A gleam came on old Maisie's face as she lay there letting the idea of
Dolly soak into her heart. Presently she said, without opening her
eyes:--"I wonder, if Dolly lives to be eighty, will she remember old
Mrs. Picture. I should like her to. Only she is small."

"Dear Mrs. Picture, you are talking as if you were not to have Dolly
again. Don't you remember what I told you on Sunday? I'm going to get
both the children down here, and Aunt M'riar. Unless, when you are
better, you like to go back to Sapps Court. You shall, you know!"

Another memory attacked old Maisie. "Oh dear," said she, "I thought our
Court was all tumbled down. Was it not?"

"Yes--the day I came. And then I carried you off to Cavendish Square.
Don't you remember?--where Miss Grahame was--Sister Nora." She went on
to tell of the promptitude and efficiency with which the repairs had
been carried out. For, strange to say, the power Mr. Bartlett possessed
of impressing Europe with his integrity and professional ability had
extended itself to Gwen, a perfect stranger, during that short visit to
the Court, and she was mysteriously ready to vouch for his sobriety and
good faith. Presently old Maisie grew curious about the voices in the
next room.

"Is that a gentleman's voice, through the door, talking? It isn't Dr.
Nash. Dr. Nash doesn't laugh like that."

"No--that is my blind man I have brought to see you. I told you about
him, you know. But he must not tire you too much."

"But _can_ he see me?"

"I didn't mean _see_, that way. I meant see to talk to. Some day he wi