ee that all was comfortable.

"That I haven't the least doubt of," Lady Randolph said, "and I am at
home, you know, and will ask for anything I want; but I must have my nap
before dinner; and do you go and talk to your husband."

Lucy could not resist one glance into the nursery, where little Tom, a
little languid but so much better, was sitting on his nurse's knee
before the fire, amused by those little fables about his fingers and
toes which are the earliest of all dramatic performances. The sight of
him thus content, and the sound of his laugh, was sweet to her in her
anxiety. She ran downstairs again without disturbing him, closing so
carefully the double doors that shut him out from all draughts, not
without a wondering doubt as she did so, whether it was true, perhaps,
that she was "coddling" him, and if there was such a thing as wholesome
neglect. She went quickly through the dim drawing-room to the warm ruddy
flush of firelight that shone between the curtains from the smaller
room, thinking nothing less than to find her husband, who was fond of an
hour's repose in that kindly light before dinner. She had got to her old
place in front of the fire before she perceived that Sir Tom's tall
shadow was no longer there. Lucy uttered a little exclamation of
disappointment, and then she perceived remorsefully another shadow, not
like Sir Tom's, the long weedy boyish figure of her brother against the
warm light.

"But you are here, Jock," she said, advancing to him. Jock took hold of
her arm, as he was so fond of doing.

"I shall never have you, now _she_ has come," Jock said.

"Why not, dear? You were never fond of Lady Randolph--you don't know how
good and kind she is. It is only when you like people that you know how
nice they are," Lucy said, all unconscious that a deeper voice than hers
had announced that truth.

"Then I shall never know, for I don't like her," said Jock
uncompromising. "You'll have to sit and gossip with her when you're not
in the nursery, and I shall have no time to tell you, for the holidays
last only a month."

"But you can tell me everything in a month, you silly boy; and if we
can't have our walks, Jock (for it's cold), there is one place where
she will never come," said Lucy, upon which Jock turned away with an
exclamation of impatience.

His sister put her hand on his shoulder and looked reproachfully in his
face.

"You too! You used to like it. You used to come and toss him up and