s fond of offering a
sovereign to anybody who would find a cobweb in her house.

Deb was peeled of her furs by Peter, with the greatest deference and
politeness, but with none of the obsequiousness that had sickened her
elsewhere; he laid down her sable cloak with the reverence of one who
knew its value, and he asked Rose in a whisper if her sister would like
a glass of wine before lunch. The smiling matron shook her head, and
whispered something else, which sent him out of the room. Then, while
he skipped about in the background, attending to the wines and beers,
she convoyed the guest to the very luxurious bedroom where head-nurse
Keziah dandled the youngest of the Breen children. The rest had had
their dinners and gone out a-walking, so as not to be made too much of
by a silly mother, if it could be helped. Warm was the greeting between
Keziah and her late mistress, and many the questions about Redford and
the old folks; but there was no hint that Mrs Moon hankered after the
big store-rooms and linen-closets, the dignities and privileges of her
former home. Her heart was with Rose's babies now.

"There, what do you think of THIS?" she demanded, as she proudly
displayed her charge, and, being invited thereto, condescendingly laid
it in Deb's outstretched arms.

It was a pretty, healthy creature, fat, dainty and about two months
old, still in the whitest and finest of long clothes. "Little duck!"
Deb crooned, and rubbed her cheek almost with passion on its rose-leaf
skin. Robert's nose, indeed, was dislocated on the spot.

"Oh, Rosie," she presently blurted out, "I would like to have this
child!"

"Would you?" replied Rose, all smiles.

"No, but, seriously and without joking, I really would, you know."

"I daresay," laughed the plump little mother, and her laugh was echoed
by Keziah as she passed into the adjoining nursery--to leave the long
parted sisters to themselves.

"Now, look here," the guest addressed the hostess, thoughtfully and
deliberately, as soon as they were alone, "if you will give her to me,
I will bring her up and educate her as perfectly as care and money can
do it. She shall take the name of Pennycuick, and be my daughter, and
my heiress, and the future representative of the family. And," she
added, for her own inward ear, "we can live at home or somewhere, if
necessary, where Breens and such will not have the chance to interfere
with us."

"As if I would give my baby away," Rose sweetly