r to try here where there was no--no
com--com--"

"No compertishun," suggested the would-be nursery governess.

"Yes, that's the right word, I think. But there was some, after all.
Poor Angel's so sad. She doesn't quite know what we'll do next, for we
haven't much money left."

"She's got a job of char--I mean, typin' to-day anyhow," said Jane.

"Yes, she's gone to a hotel, where a gentleman talks a story out loud,
and she puts it down on paper. She's been three times; but it's so sad;
the story is a beautiful one, only she doesn't think he'll live to
finish it. He came here to get well, because there's sunshine, and
flowers; but his wife cried on Angel's shoulder, in the next room to
his, and said he would never, never get well any more. Angel didn't
tell me, for I don't think she likes me to know sad things; but I heard
her saying it all to a lady she works for sometimes, a lady who knows
the poor man. I don't remember his name, but he's what they call a
Genius."

"It's like that out here on the Riviera," said Jane, shaking her head so
gloomily that the ruffled cap wobbled. "Lots of ill people come, as well
as those who wants fun, and throwin' thur money about. In the midst of
loife we are in death. Drat the Biby, I believe 'e's swallowed 'is tin
soldier! No, 'ere it is, on the floor. But, as I was sayin', your ma and
mine might be sisters, in some wyes. Both of 'em lost their 'usbins,
young--"

"How did your father get lost?" Rosemary broke in, deeply interested.

"'E went to the dogs," replied Jane, mysteriously.

"Oh!" breathed the child, thrilled with a vague horror. She longed
intensely to know what had happened to her friend's parent after joining
his lot with that of the dogs, but was too delicate-minded to continue
her questioning, after such a tragic beginning. She wondered if there
were a kind of dreadful dog which made a specialty of eating fathers.
"And did he never come back again?" she ventured to enquire, at last.

"Not 'e. You never do, you know, if once you goes to the dogs. There
ain't no wye back. I was wonderin', since we've been acquainted, kiddy,
if your pa didn't go the sime road? It 'appens in all clarses."

"Oh no, my father was lost at sea, not on the road; and there aren't any
dogs there, at least I don't think so," said Rosemary.

"If it's only the sea 'as swallered 'im, 'e may be cast up again, any
day, alive an' bloomin'," replied Jane cheerfully. "My ma 'ad a grite
friend, s