make
him laugh----"

"Oh, don't, Lucy! can't you see? So I would again, if he were like that.
How you can bear it!" said the boy, bursting away from her. And then
Jock returned very much ashamed and horror-stricken, and took the hand
that dropped by her side, and clumsily patted and kissed it, and held it
between his own, looking penitently, wistfully, in her face all the
while: but not knowing what to say.

Lucy stood looking down into the glowing fire, with her head drooping
and an air of utter dejection in her little gentle figure. "Do you think
he looks so bad as that?" she said, in a broken voice.

"Oh, no, no; that is not what I mean," the boy cried. "It's--the little
chap is not so jolly; he's--a little cross; or else he's forgotten me. I
suppose it's that. He wouldn't look at me when I ran up. He's so little
one oughtn't to mind, but it made me----your baby, Lucy! and the little
beggar cried and wouldn't look at me."

"Is that all?" said Lucy. She only half believed him, but she pretended
to be deceived. She gave a little trembling laugh, and laid her head for
a moment upon Jock's boyish breast, where his heart was beating high
with a passion of sorrow and tender love. "Sometimes," she said, leaning
against him, "sometimes I think I shall die. I can't live to see
anything happen to him: and sometimes---- But he is ever so much better;
don't you think he looks almost himself?" she said, raising her head
hurriedly, and interrogating the scarcely visible face with her eyes.

"Looks! I don't see much difference in his looks, if he wouldn't be so
cross," said Jock, lying boldly, but with a tremor, for he was not used
to it. And then he said hurriedly, "But there's that clergyman, the
father of the fellow on the foundation. I've found out all about him. I
must tell you, Lucy. He is the very man. There is no call to think about
it or put off any longer. What a thing it would be if he could have it
by Christmas! I have got all the particulars--they look as if they were
just made for us," Jock cried.

CHAPTER X.

LUCY'S ADVISERS.

Lady Randolph found her visit dull. It is true that there had been no
guests to speak of on previous Christmases since Sir Tom's marriage; but
the house had been more cheerful, and Lucy had been ready to drive, or
walk, or call, or go out to the festivities around. But now she was
absorbed by the nursing, and never liked to be an hour out of call. The
Dowager put up with it a