u.'

'Booty!' exclaimed Michael sadly; and as the little creature jumped on
his knee, he continued in a melancholy tone: 'Do you know, Booty, you
have a rival? Someone else beside yourself dares to be devoted to your
master. Ah, no wonder you wag your tail so feebly! "The moon loves many
brooks, but the brooks love one moon"--it is an affecting image.'

'Michael, I do wish you would be a little serious this last evening. I
really mean it. Kester thinks more of you than he does of his own
brother.'

'Oh, he will be wiser some day,' returned Michael, with the utmost
cheerfulness. 'You must make allowance for his youth and inexperience.
He is an odd boy, rather precocious for his age, and his weak health has
fostered his little peculiarities.'

'You speak as though some apology were needed. You are very dense this
evening, Michael. I believe I said I was not at all surprised at
Kester's devotion, you have been so good to him.'

'I think the air of this place is enervating,' replied Michael, jumping
up from the parapet. 'I know people do not generally consider moorland
air enervating; but mine is a peculiar constitution, and needs more
bracing than other men's. Shall we walk back, my dear?' But as he gave
her his hand to rise, the gentle melancholy of his smile smote her with
a sudden sense of sadness, for it spoke of some hidden pain that even
her sympathy could not reach; and she knew that his whimsical words only
cloaked some vague uneasiness. 'Come, dear, come,' he continued; 'these
Scotch twilights are somewhat damp and chilly. We will burn that pine
log this evening, and we will sit round it and tell stories--eh,
Audrey?'

But, in spite of these cheerful words, Michael was the quietest of the
group that evening, as he watched from his dusky corner, unperceived
himself, the play of the firelight on one bright, earnest face. Audrey
sat on the rug at her father's feet, with her head against his knee. It
was a favourite position of hers.

'Now, Daddy Glass-Eyes, it is your turn,' she said, using the old
baby-name. 'Michael has turned disagreeable and has gone to sleep, so we
will miss him. Kester, are you thinking of your story? It must be a nice
creepy one, please.'

'I think we ought all to go to bed early, John,' interrupted Mrs. Ross.
'Audrey is in one of her sociable moods; but she forgets we have a long
journey before us. Kester is looking as sleepy as possible.' And as Dr.
Ross always acted on his wife's