, my boy. Good-evening, nurse." And that was all we saw of Joyce's
father that day; only an hour later, when the nursery tea was over, and
I was undressing the boy by the bedroom fire, while Joyce stood beside
me, removing the garments carefully from a favourite doll, and
chattering as fast as a purling brook, I saw Mrs. Morton standing in the
doorway, looking at us.

Joyce uttered a scream of delight, and threw herself upon her. "Mine
mother! mine mother!" she repeated over and over again.

Mrs. Morton had the old, tired look on her face as she came forward,
rather hurriedly. "I cannot stay; there are people downstairs, and when
they have gone I must dress for dinner." She gave a sort of harassed
sigh as she spoke.

"Could you not rest a little first?" I returned. "You have been out the
greater part of the day, and you do not seem fit for the evening's
fatigue," for there was quite a drawn look about the lovely mouth.

She shook her head, but, nevertheless, yielded when I gave her up my
chair and put the boy in her arms; in his little chemise, and with his
dimpled shoulders and bare legs, he was perfectly irresistible to his
mother, and I was not surprised to see her cover him with kisses. "My
bonnie boy, my precious little son," I could hear her whisper, in a sort
of ecstasy, as I picked up the little garments from the floor and folded
them. I seemed to know by instinct that it was only this that she needed
to rest her; the drawn, weary lines seemed to vanish like magic. What a
sweet picture it was! But her pleasure, poor soul, was short lived; the
next moment she had recollected herself.

"There are all those people in the drawing-room! What would my husband
say at my neglecting them? Good-night, my darling; be good; and
good-night, Merle." She smiled at me in quite a friendly fashion, and
hurried away without another look.

"I always do say master does make a slave of mistress," grumbled Hannah,
as she filled the bath; "she never has a moment to herself that I can
see. What is the use of having children if one never sees them." And
though I refrained from any comment, I quite endorsed Hannah's opinion.
As soon as Hannah had cleared the room, I shaded the light and began
quietly arranging my clothes in the wardrobe, and then I sat down in the
low chair beside the fire. Through the open door I could see Hannah's
bent head as she sat at her sewing. The nursery looked warm and cosy--a
very haven of comfort; but I