HOUSEHOLD HINTS.

HOUSEHOLD HINTS.Toplace a piece of oil-cloth or American baize over the whole or part of the kitchen table is a very tidy plan and saves constant scrubbing of the table.Powderedrotten stone moistened with a little paraffin, cleans brass-work beautifully, after it has been washed with soap and water, and at the end rubbed with a clean leather.Bread-pansand cheese-pans should be carefully wiped out every other day, and any pieces of broken bread not left in the pan, but put on a dish or plate till it is decided what shall be done with them.Sofacovers and rugs should be frequently lifted and shaken in summer to find out if there are any moths underneath. Spare blankets should also be inspected, and fur cloaks and trimmings should be well shaken and lightly beaten occasionally.Allgreen vegetables should be carefully washed with a little salt and water to free them from the insects that find a home in them, otherwise one may have unpleasant experiences at the dinner-table.

Toplace a piece of oil-cloth or American baize over the whole or part of the kitchen table is a very tidy plan and saves constant scrubbing of the table.

Powderedrotten stone moistened with a little paraffin, cleans brass-work beautifully, after it has been washed with soap and water, and at the end rubbed with a clean leather.

Bread-pansand cheese-pans should be carefully wiped out every other day, and any pieces of broken bread not left in the pan, but put on a dish or plate till it is decided what shall be done with them.

Sofacovers and rugs should be frequently lifted and shaken in summer to find out if there are any moths underneath. Spare blankets should also be inspected, and fur cloaks and trimmings should be well shaken and lightly beaten occasionally.

Allgreen vegetables should be carefully washed with a little salt and water to free them from the insects that find a home in them, otherwise one may have unpleasant experiences at the dinner-table.

FROCKS FOR TO-MORROW.By“THE LADY DRESSMAKER.”Oneof the special colours of the coming season is said to be yellow, but no exact shade is quoted, and so I had better warn my readers and tell them that there are yellows and yellows, and some of them are calculated to make one look—dreadful! I think a lemon yellow is, as a rule, the safest shade of all.White gowns are in preparation, and, so far as I can see, will be quite as much worn as they were last year by everyone; and really they seem universally becoming.Black skirts are no longer correct when worn with light-coloured blouses. There should always be a repetition of the colour of the skirt in the blouse. For instance, the skirt being of blue cloth, the blouse should repeat the blue, mixed with any other hue you may select.I do not see any sign of that disappearance of the blouse which has been so often threatened; but I see that the advent of the tight-fitting small coat may render them unnecessary, as the small coats are made in such a dressy style, with fronts of lace, and pretty decorations, so that they take the place of a bodice.FOUR SPRING GOWNS.There is also a very decided advance in the popularity of the Princess dress. Indeed, so tight-fitting are the present styles, that we might really just as well adopt it, for we are wearing what is next akin. In evening gowns there is a great liking for it, and a desire to do away with the waist-band that has been worn so long; and as we must be slim and slight this year, if we are to be at all in thefashion, so we shall see that all styles will tend to help this one. What a sad thing for the extremely stout! But I think it is in reality a good thing that women and men should never allow themselves to become so, for if we think the matter over seriously, we shall soon arrive at the conclusion that it spoils our usefulness both to ourselves and to others, and makes our days a burden. So if Dame Fashion steps in to decree against it, we may hail her interposition as a blessing indeed.The “tunic” drapery is the new note of all the spring skirts, and really so tight-fitting are all of them, that we wonder how we are going to sit down! In Paris this form of trimming has been most popular, and there the blouse and skirt are arranged so as to look exactly like a polonaise.The new toques are larger than those of last year, and much wider. They generally should match the colour of the gown with which they are worn. The trimmings are put on both in front and on the left side, and consist of ostrich tips, chou bows, or rosettes. It is said that gold ornaments are to take the place of paste ones in all the hats of next season; and I notice that steel buttons are more used than anything else for gowns and blouses.The edges of so many of the new gowns are cut in scallops that this mode of decoration seems to be quite one of the fashions of the year, and a glance at the drawings for the month shows how extremely short the coats have become. That called “Four Spring Gowns” shows some of the prevailing modes with great accuracy. The figure on the extreme left wears a cloth Princess gown made up with a tartan velvet yoke, sleeves, and panels. The colour of the cloth was blue, and the tartan was one of the blue and green ones, with a tiny red line. The front is decorated with embroidery. The next figure wears a velvet or cloth gown of black, with a coat scalloped and braided. The collar is of white silk embroidered with black; hat of velvet, with white silk and white feathers. Third figure wears a gown of sage-green cloth, trimmed with a green silk check and bands of green velvet, front of chiffon and white silk. The seated figure wears a plain walking gown of grey cloth; the bodice is a tight-fitting one, with a very short basque; and the whole is edged with rows of machine stitching on the bodice and skirt.TEA-GOWN FOR A YOUNG LADY.There is a great liking this spring for shepherds’ plaid, and it seems likely to be used for gowns and blouses as well as capes. Our sketch shows a tailor-made gown, which is trimmed with black braid, and has one of the shaped flounces on the skirt. The collar is lined with white silk, and there is a front of tucked silk-muslin, and a tie and bow of the same. The hat is of white straw, and is trimmed with white plush, black velvet, and black and white feathers. Veil of white, with black dots.TAILOR-MADE GOWN OF SHEPHERD’S PLAID.The second figure in this illustration wears a charming costume of pale grey cloth which shows the manner in which braid is put on and mingled with embroidery. The braid in this case is of white silk; the edges of both coat and epaulettes are scalloped; and the braiding is arranged in a pointed shape on the skirt. The toque is a very pretty one of a grey shade to match the gown; and is of velvet, ornamented with a wreath of green leaves and an arrangement of white wings.It is sometimes useful to know how to make a tea-gown for a young lady which will be useful and pretty, and youthful enough in its style for the years of its wearer. The tea-gown illustrated is of black silk, and is cut very plainly. It opens over a skirt of white satin, with a vest of the same. This last is covered with white net with jet embroidery. There is a flounce of the silk on either side of the front, which is lined with white satin, and the high collar is lined with the same.The lady in out-of-door costume who stands beside her is dressed in a dark blue cashmere or cloth gown, scalloped and trimmed with white braid, a hat of fancy straw, with pink roses and quills.I have no doubt that many people arewondering whether capes are going to be worn still, and how they will be made; so I must proceed to answer that question now. The new capes are much like the best winter ones have been, cut very round in front, and scant as to fulness, rather longer too than they have been worn at the back, and with the same very wide and full flounce surrounding them. There are also some very short ones, but just now it is said to be too soon to speak of capes, or indeed is there much known about purely summer things, though I hear that thin materials will be worn over silk as much as they were last year, and some new materials which combine the thin and the thick together have been brought out; they are woven together making one material. But I do not know whether they will be popular, and most people like the silk under-gown and its pleasant rustle. The effort to deprive us of them resulted in failure, and nun’s veiling and all soft linings were pronounced a failure.Amongst other novelties, there is a new shape of Tam-o’-Shanter, which has a kind of peak added to it in front, rather after the manner of a jockey’s cap. This makes them far more becoming, as well as more serviceable in all weathers, and in every way they look more close-fitting than of yore. This new Tam has been worn during the last winter at many of the county meets, accompanied by a long tight-fitting coat. A bright red, a light mauve, and a pretty stone colour have all been seen, and very well and suitable they looked. There has been a universal tendency to wear light-hued cloth this season, and nearly every shade of red and scarlet.I suppose everyone has seen by the papers that the latest idea at weddings has been to have the wedding breakfast in the train which conveyed the bride and groom, as well as the whole wedding party, to London from the country town which had been the scene of the marriage. This fashion will, of course, be reserved for millionaires only, but as straws show how the wind blows, at several recent marriages the newly-wedded pair have made their escape from the door of the church, and there has been no wedding reception of any kind. So, perhaps, even our very modified form of wedding entertainment will be reduced still further, and end off at the church.The going-away gown at all the recent smart weddings seems to have been invariably made of cloth; roan-colour, petunia, light grey, turquoise blue, dark and light mauve, and heliotrope are all colours that have been seen at recent marriages in good society. The first-named was lined with a shot-blueglacésilk, and was made with a bodice which had a full vest of cream-coloured lace and revers of dark blue velvet. The dress of petunia cloth had a coat of petunia velvet, slashed with mauve; and as a rule gowns of pale grey are trimmed with grey velvet of a darker shade, with a hat to match. The turquoise blue was an embroidered gown with chenille and silk, and was relieved by cream-coloured lace and a collar. All of these gowns will be useful afterwards, and were none of them too grand for daily life. This is a point that many girls with a limited allowance have to think of, as the going-away gown often has to become the walking and visiting dress of the future days. So it must be chosen with deliberation and care.I hear that in Paris the popular gown for the early spring for ordinary wear will be black serge; this is made as a coat or Directoire coat bodice, braided or not as is preferred, in fact made in any way that seems suitable to everyday use. The best gown as I have said is of some light-hued cloth, and for best summer wear the thin grenadines over silk are most fashionable as well as the most useful of dresses. So there is no doubt as to the gowns that will be wanted. The next thing to consider is what are the requirements of our own wardrobes, and what can we do without, alter, or purchase for the coming season.

By“THE LADY DRESSMAKER.”

Oneof the special colours of the coming season is said to be yellow, but no exact shade is quoted, and so I had better warn my readers and tell them that there are yellows and yellows, and some of them are calculated to make one look—dreadful! I think a lemon yellow is, as a rule, the safest shade of all.

White gowns are in preparation, and, so far as I can see, will be quite as much worn as they were last year by everyone; and really they seem universally becoming.

Black skirts are no longer correct when worn with light-coloured blouses. There should always be a repetition of the colour of the skirt in the blouse. For instance, the skirt being of blue cloth, the blouse should repeat the blue, mixed with any other hue you may select.

I do not see any sign of that disappearance of the blouse which has been so often threatened; but I see that the advent of the tight-fitting small coat may render them unnecessary, as the small coats are made in such a dressy style, with fronts of lace, and pretty decorations, so that they take the place of a bodice.

FOUR SPRING GOWNS.

There is also a very decided advance in the popularity of the Princess dress. Indeed, so tight-fitting are the present styles, that we might really just as well adopt it, for we are wearing what is next akin. In evening gowns there is a great liking for it, and a desire to do away with the waist-band that has been worn so long; and as we must be slim and slight this year, if we are to be at all in thefashion, so we shall see that all styles will tend to help this one. What a sad thing for the extremely stout! But I think it is in reality a good thing that women and men should never allow themselves to become so, for if we think the matter over seriously, we shall soon arrive at the conclusion that it spoils our usefulness both to ourselves and to others, and makes our days a burden. So if Dame Fashion steps in to decree against it, we may hail her interposition as a blessing indeed.

The “tunic” drapery is the new note of all the spring skirts, and really so tight-fitting are all of them, that we wonder how we are going to sit down! In Paris this form of trimming has been most popular, and there the blouse and skirt are arranged so as to look exactly like a polonaise.

The new toques are larger than those of last year, and much wider. They generally should match the colour of the gown with which they are worn. The trimmings are put on both in front and on the left side, and consist of ostrich tips, chou bows, or rosettes. It is said that gold ornaments are to take the place of paste ones in all the hats of next season; and I notice that steel buttons are more used than anything else for gowns and blouses.

The edges of so many of the new gowns are cut in scallops that this mode of decoration seems to be quite one of the fashions of the year, and a glance at the drawings for the month shows how extremely short the coats have become. That called “Four Spring Gowns” shows some of the prevailing modes with great accuracy. The figure on the extreme left wears a cloth Princess gown made up with a tartan velvet yoke, sleeves, and panels. The colour of the cloth was blue, and the tartan was one of the blue and green ones, with a tiny red line. The front is decorated with embroidery. The next figure wears a velvet or cloth gown of black, with a coat scalloped and braided. The collar is of white silk embroidered with black; hat of velvet, with white silk and white feathers. Third figure wears a gown of sage-green cloth, trimmed with a green silk check and bands of green velvet, front of chiffon and white silk. The seated figure wears a plain walking gown of grey cloth; the bodice is a tight-fitting one, with a very short basque; and the whole is edged with rows of machine stitching on the bodice and skirt.

TEA-GOWN FOR A YOUNG LADY.

There is a great liking this spring for shepherds’ plaid, and it seems likely to be used for gowns and blouses as well as capes. Our sketch shows a tailor-made gown, which is trimmed with black braid, and has one of the shaped flounces on the skirt. The collar is lined with white silk, and there is a front of tucked silk-muslin, and a tie and bow of the same. The hat is of white straw, and is trimmed with white plush, black velvet, and black and white feathers. Veil of white, with black dots.

TAILOR-MADE GOWN OF SHEPHERD’S PLAID.

The second figure in this illustration wears a charming costume of pale grey cloth which shows the manner in which braid is put on and mingled with embroidery. The braid in this case is of white silk; the edges of both coat and epaulettes are scalloped; and the braiding is arranged in a pointed shape on the skirt. The toque is a very pretty one of a grey shade to match the gown; and is of velvet, ornamented with a wreath of green leaves and an arrangement of white wings.

It is sometimes useful to know how to make a tea-gown for a young lady which will be useful and pretty, and youthful enough in its style for the years of its wearer. The tea-gown illustrated is of black silk, and is cut very plainly. It opens over a skirt of white satin, with a vest of the same. This last is covered with white net with jet embroidery. There is a flounce of the silk on either side of the front, which is lined with white satin, and the high collar is lined with the same.

The lady in out-of-door costume who stands beside her is dressed in a dark blue cashmere or cloth gown, scalloped and trimmed with white braid, a hat of fancy straw, with pink roses and quills.

I have no doubt that many people arewondering whether capes are going to be worn still, and how they will be made; so I must proceed to answer that question now. The new capes are much like the best winter ones have been, cut very round in front, and scant as to fulness, rather longer too than they have been worn at the back, and with the same very wide and full flounce surrounding them. There are also some very short ones, but just now it is said to be too soon to speak of capes, or indeed is there much known about purely summer things, though I hear that thin materials will be worn over silk as much as they were last year, and some new materials which combine the thin and the thick together have been brought out; they are woven together making one material. But I do not know whether they will be popular, and most people like the silk under-gown and its pleasant rustle. The effort to deprive us of them resulted in failure, and nun’s veiling and all soft linings were pronounced a failure.

Amongst other novelties, there is a new shape of Tam-o’-Shanter, which has a kind of peak added to it in front, rather after the manner of a jockey’s cap. This makes them far more becoming, as well as more serviceable in all weathers, and in every way they look more close-fitting than of yore. This new Tam has been worn during the last winter at many of the county meets, accompanied by a long tight-fitting coat. A bright red, a light mauve, and a pretty stone colour have all been seen, and very well and suitable they looked. There has been a universal tendency to wear light-hued cloth this season, and nearly every shade of red and scarlet.

I suppose everyone has seen by the papers that the latest idea at weddings has been to have the wedding breakfast in the train which conveyed the bride and groom, as well as the whole wedding party, to London from the country town which had been the scene of the marriage. This fashion will, of course, be reserved for millionaires only, but as straws show how the wind blows, at several recent marriages the newly-wedded pair have made their escape from the door of the church, and there has been no wedding reception of any kind. So, perhaps, even our very modified form of wedding entertainment will be reduced still further, and end off at the church.

The going-away gown at all the recent smart weddings seems to have been invariably made of cloth; roan-colour, petunia, light grey, turquoise blue, dark and light mauve, and heliotrope are all colours that have been seen at recent marriages in good society. The first-named was lined with a shot-blueglacésilk, and was made with a bodice which had a full vest of cream-coloured lace and revers of dark blue velvet. The dress of petunia cloth had a coat of petunia velvet, slashed with mauve; and as a rule gowns of pale grey are trimmed with grey velvet of a darker shade, with a hat to match. The turquoise blue was an embroidered gown with chenille and silk, and was relieved by cream-coloured lace and a collar. All of these gowns will be useful afterwards, and were none of them too grand for daily life. This is a point that many girls with a limited allowance have to think of, as the going-away gown often has to become the walking and visiting dress of the future days. So it must be chosen with deliberation and care.

I hear that in Paris the popular gown for the early spring for ordinary wear will be black serge; this is made as a coat or Directoire coat bodice, braided or not as is preferred, in fact made in any way that seems suitable to everyday use. The best gown as I have said is of some light-hued cloth, and for best summer wear the thin grenadines over silk are most fashionable as well as the most useful of dresses. So there is no doubt as to the gowns that will be wanted. The next thing to consider is what are the requirements of our own wardrobes, and what can we do without, alter, or purchase for the coming season.

ABOUT PEGGY SAVILLE.ByJESSIE MANSERGH (Mrs. G. de Horne Vaizey), Author of “Sisters Three,” etc.CHAPTER XXV.“Convalescence,” remarked Peggy elegantly, a week later on, “convalescence is a period not entirely devoid of compensation!” She was lying on a sofa in her bedroom at the Larches, wrapped in her white dressing-gown, and leaning against a nest of pink silk cushions; and what with a table drawn up by her side laden with grapes and jelly, a pile of Christmas numbers lying by her side, and the presence of an audience consisting of Rosalind, Lady Darcy and Mrs. Asplin, ready to listen admiringly to her conversation, and to agree enthusiastically with every word she uttered, it did indeed seem as if the position was one which might be endured with fortitude! Many were the questions which had been showered upon her since her return to consciousness, and the listeners never grew tired of listening to her account of the accident. How Rosalind had clutched too carelessly at the slender candlestick so that it had fallen forward, setting the gauze dress in flames, and how she herself had flown out of the room, torn down the curtains which draped the “harem” and had flung them round the frantic, struggling figure. There were a dozen questions which they were longing to ask, but the remembrance of that tragic evening seemed to excite the little invalid, so that for the present they remained unspoken.With every day that passed, however, Peggy gained more strength, and was petted to her heart’s content by everyone in the house. The old lord kissed her fondly on the cheek and murmured, “God reward you, my brave girl, for I never can.” Lady Darcy shed tears every morning when the burns were dressed, and said; “Oh, Peggy dear, forgive me for being cross, and do, do be sure to use the lotion for your arms regularly every day when you get better!” and the big Doctor chucked her under the chin and cried,“Well, ‘Fighting Saville,’ and how are we to-day? You are the pluckiest little patient I’ve had for a long time. I’ll say that for you! Let’s have another taste of the rack!”... It was all most agreeable and soothing to one’s feelings!One of the first questions Peggy asked after her return to consciousness was as to how much her father and mother had been told of her accident, and whether the news had been sent by letter or cable.“By letter, dear,” Mrs. Asplin replied. “We talked it over very carefully, and concluded that that would be best. You know, dearie, we were very, very anxious about you for a few days, but the doctor said that it would be useless cabling to your mother, because if all went well you would be up again before she could arrive, and if—if it had gone the other way, Peggy, she could not have been in time. I sent her a letter, and I have written every mail since, and now we are going to calculate the time when the first letter will arrive, and send a cable to say that you are quite out of danger, and sitting up, and getting hungrier and more mischievous with every day as it passes!”“Thank you,” said Peggy warmly. “That’s very kind. I am glad you thought of that, but will you please promise not to be economical about the cable? They won’t care about the money. Spend pounds over it if it is necessary, but do, do manage to make them believe that I am quite perky. Put at the end ‘Peggy says she is perky!’ They will know that is genuine, and it will convince them more than anything else.” And so those five expressive words went flashing across the world at the end of a long message, and brought comfort to two hearts that had been near to breaking.So soon as Peggy was pronounced to be out of danger, Mrs. Asplin went back to the vicarage, leaving her in the charge of the kind hospital nurse, though for that matter every member of the household took it in turns to wait upon her. A dozen times a day the master and mistress of the house would come into the sick-room to inquire how things were going, or to bring some little gift for the invalid, and as she grew stronger it became the custom for father, mother and daughter to join her at her early tea. Peggy watched them from her sofa, too weak to speak much, but keenly alive to all that was going on, among other things to the change which had come over these three persons since she had known them first. Lord Darcy had always been kind and considerate, but his manner seemed gentler and more courteous than ever, while Rosalind’s amiability was an hourly surprise, and Lady Darcy’s manner had lost much of its snappish discontent. On one occasion when her husband made some little request, she replied ina tone so sweet and loving that the listener started with surprise. What could it be that had worked this transformation? She did not realise that when the Angel of Death has hovered over a household, and has at last flown away with empty arms, leaving the home untouched, they would be hard hearts that were not touched, ungrateful natures that did not take thought of themselves, and face life with a higher outlook! Lady Darcy’s social disappointments seemed light compared with the awful “might have been”; while Rosalind’s lamentations over her disfigurement had died away at the sight of Peggy’s unconscious form. Perhaps when Lord Darcy thanked Peggy for all she had done for him and his, he had other thoughts in his mind than the mere physical deliverance of which she had been the instrument!Arthur had been kept well informed of his sister’s recovery, and proved himself the kindest of brothers, sending letters by the dozen, full of such nonsensical jokes, anecdotes, and illustrations, as would have cheered the gloomiest invalid in the world. But the happiest day of all was when the great news arrived that his name was placed first of all in the list of successful candidates for Sandhurst. This was indeed tidings of comfort and joy! Peggy clapped her bandaged hands together, and laughed aloud with tears of pain streaming down her face. “Arthur Saville, V.C., Arthur Saville, V.C.,” she cried, and then fell to groaning because some days must still elapse before the medical examination was over, and her hero was set free to hasten to her side.“And I shall be back at the vicarage then, and we shall all be together! Oh, let us be joyful! How happy I am! What a nice old world it is, after all,” she continued hilariously, while Rosalind gazed at her with reproachful eyes.“Are you so glad to go away? I shall be vewy, vewy sowwy—I’ll miss you awfully. I shall feel that there is nothing to do when you have gone away, Peggy!” Rosalind hesitated, and looked at her companion in uncertain bashful fashion. “I—I think you like me a little bit now, and I’m vewwy fond of you, but you couldn’t bear me before we were ill. You might tell me why?”“I was jealous of you,” said Peggy promptly, whereat Rosalind’s eyes filled with tears.“You won’t be jealous now!” she said dismally, and raised her head to stare at her own reflection in the mirror. The hair, which had once streamed below her waist, was now cut short round her head, her face had lost its delicate bloom, and an ugly scar disfigured her throat and the lower portion of one cheek. Beautiful she must always be, with her faultless features and wonderful eyes, but the bloom and radiance of colour which had been her chief charm had disappeared, for the time being, as completely as though they had never existed.“I’ll love you more,” said Peggy reassuringly. “You are ever so much nicer, and you will be as pretty as ever when your hair grows, and the marks fade away. I like you better when you are not quite so pretty, for you really were disgustingly conceited, weren’t you now? You can’t deny it.”“Oh, Peggy Saville, and so were you! I saw that the first moment you came into the woom! You flared up like a Turkey cock if anyone dared to offend your dignity, and you were always widing about on your high horse tossing your head, and using gweat long words.”“That’s pride, not conceit. It’s quite a different thing.”“It seems very much alike to other people,” said Rosalind shrewdly. “We both gave ourselves airs, and the wesult was the same, whatever caused it. I was pwoud of my face, and you were pwoud of your—your—er—family—and your cleverness and—the twicks you played, so if I confess, you ought to confess too. I’m sorry I aggwavated you, Mawiquita, and took all the pwaise for the decowations. It was howwibly mean, and I don’t wonder you were angwy. I’m sorry that I was selfish!”“I exceedingly regret that I formed a false estimate of your character! Let’s be chums!” said Peggy sweetly, and the two girls eyed one another uncertainly for a moment, then bent forward and exchanged a kiss of conciliation, after which unusual display of emotion, they were seized with instant embarrassment.“Hem!” said Peggy. “It’s very cold! Fire rather low, I think. Looks as if it were going to snow.”“No,” said Rosalind, “I mean—yes. I’ll put on some more—I mean coals. In half an hour Esther and Mellicent will be here——”“Oh, so they will! How lovely!” Peggy seized gladly on the new opening, and proceeded to enlarge on the joy which she felt at the prospect of seeing her friends again, for on that afternoon, Robert and the vicarage party were to be allowed to see her for the first time, and to have tea in her room. She had been looking forward to their visit for days, and now that the longed-for hour was at hand, she was eager to have the lamps lit, and all preparations made for their arrival.Robert appeared first, having ridden over in advance of the rest. And Rosalind, after going out to greet him, came rushing back, all shaking with laughter, with the information that he had begun to walk on tip-toe the moment that he had left the drawing-room, and was creeping along the passage as if the floor were made of egg-shells.Peggy craned her head, heard the squeak, squeak of boots coming nearer and nearer, the cautious opening of the door, the heavy breaths of anxiety, and then, crash!—bang!—crash! down flopped the heavy screen round the doorway, and Rob was discovered standing among the ruins in agonies of embarrassment. From his expression of despair, he might have supposed that the shock would kill Peggy outright; but she gulped down her nervousness, and tried her best to reassure him.“Oh, never mind—never mind! It doesn’t matter. Come over here and talk to me. Oh, Rob, Rob, I am so glad to see you!”Robert stood looking down in silence, while his lips twitched and his eyebrows worked in curious fashion. If it had not been altogether too ridiculous, Peggy would have thought that he felt inclined to cry. But he only grunted, and cried—“What a face! You had better tuck into as much food as you can, and get some flesh on your bones. It’s about as big as the palm of my hand! Never saw such a thing in my life.”“Never mind my face,” piped Peggy in her weak little treble. “Sit right down and talk to me. What is the news in the giddy world? Have you heard anything about the prize? When does the result come out? Remember you promised faithfully not to open the paper until we were together. I was so afraid it would come while I was too ill to look at it!”“I should have waited,” said Robert sturdily. “There would have been no interest in the thing without you; but the result won’t be given for ten days yet, and by that time you will be with us again. The world hasn’t been at all giddy, I can tell you. I never put in a flatter time. Everybody was in the blues, and the house was like a tomb, and a jolly uncomfortable tomb at that. Esther was housekeeper while Mrs. Asplin was away, and she starved us! She was in such a mortal fright of being extravagant, that she would scarcely give us enough to keep body and soul together, and the things we had were not fit to eat. Nothing but milk puddings and stewed fruit for a week on end. Then we rebelled. I nipped her up in my arms one evening in the school-room and stuck her on the top of the little book-case. Then we mounted guard around, and set forth our views. It would have killed you to see her perched up there, trying to look prim and to keep up her dignity.“‘Let me down this moment, Robert! Bring a chair and let me get down.’“‘Will you promise to give us a pie to-morrow then, and a decent sort of a pudding?’“‘It’s no business of yours what I give you. You ought to be thankful for good wholesome food!’“‘Milk puddings are not wholesome. They don’t agree with us—they are too rich! We should like something a little lighter for a change. Will you swear off milk puddings for the next fortnight if I let you down?’“‘You are a cruel, heartless fellow, Robert Darcy—thinking of puddings when Peggy is ill, and we are all so anxious about her!’“‘Peggy would die at once if she heard how badly you were treating us. Now then, you have kept me waiting for ten minutes, so the price has gone up. You’ll have to promise a pair of ducks and mince pies into the bargain! I shall be ashamed of meeting a sheep soon, if we go on eating mutton every day of the week.’“‘Call yourself a gentleman!’ saysshe, tossing her head and withering me with a glance of scorn.“‘I call myself a hungry man, and that’s all we are concerned about for the moment,’ said I. ‘A couple of ducks and two nailing good puddings to-morrow night, or there you sit for the rest of the evening!’“We went at it hammer and tongs until she was fairly spluttering with rage; but she had to promise before she came down, and we had no more starvation diet after that. Oswald went up to town for a day and bought a pair of blue silk socks and a tie to match—that’s the greatest excitement we have had. The rest has been all worry and grind, and Mellicent on the rampage about Christmas presents. Oh, by-the-by, I printed those photographs you wanted to send to your mother, and packed them off by the mail a fortnight ago, so that she would get them in good time for Christmas.”“Rob, you didn’t! How noble of you! You really are an admirable person!” Peggy lay back against her pillows and gazed at her “partner” in great contentment of spirit. After living an invalid’s life for these past weeks it was delightfully refreshing to look at the big strong face. The sight of it was like a fresh breeze coming into the close, heated room, and she felt as if some of his superabundant energy had come into her own weak frame.A little later the vicarage party arrived, and greeted the two convalescents with warmest affection. If they were shocked at the sight of Rosalind’s disfigurement and Peggy’s emaciation, three out of the four were polite enough to disguise their feelings; but it was too much to expect of Mellicent that she should disguise what she happened to be feeling. She stared and gaped, and stared again, stuttering with consternation—“Why—why—Rosalind—your hair! It’s shorter than mine! It doesn’t come down to your shoulders! Did they cut it all off? What did you do with the rest? And your poor cheek! Will you have that mark all your life?”“I don’t know. Mother is going to twy electwicity for it. It will fade a good deal, I suppose, but I shall always be a fwight. I’m twying to wesign myself to being a hideous monster!” sighed Rosalind, turning her head towards the window the while in such a position that the scar was hidden from view, and she looked more like the celestial choir-boy of Peggy’s delirium than ever, with the golden locks curling round her neck, and the big eyes raised to the ceiling in a glance of pathetic resignation.Rob guffawed aloud with the callousness of a brother; but the other two lads gazed at her with an adoring admiration, which was balm to her vain little heart. Vain still, for a nature does not change in a day, and though Rosalind was an infinitely more lovable person now than she had been a few weeks before, the habits of a life-time were still strong upon her, and she could never by any possibility be indifferent to admiration, or pass a mirror without stopping to examine the progress of that disfiguring scar.“It wouldn’t have mattered half so much if it had been Peggy’s face that was spoiled,” continued Mellicent with cruel outspokenness, “and it is only her hands that are hurt. Things always go the wrong way in this world! I never saw anything like it. You know that night-dress bag I was working for mother, Peggy? Well, I only got two skeins of the blue silk, and then if I didn’t run short, and they hadn’t any more in the shop. The other shades don’t match at all, and it looks simply vile. I am going to give it to—ahem! I mean that’s the sort of thing that always happens to me—it makes me mad! You can’t sew at all, I suppose. What do you do with yourself all day long now that you are able to get up?”Peggy’s eyes twinkled.“I sleep,” she said slowly, “and eat, and sleep a little more, and eat again, and talk a little bit, roll into bed, and fall fast asleep. Voilà tout, ma chère! C’est ça que je fais tous les jours.”Rosalind gave a shriek of laughter at Peggy’s French, and Mellicent rolled her eyes to the ceiling.“How s—imply lovely!” she sighed. “I wish I were you! I’d like to go to bed in November and stay there till May. In a room like this of course, with everything beautiful and dainty, and a maid to wait upon me. I’d have a fire and an india-rubber hot-water bottle, and I’d lie and sleep and wake up every now and then and make the maid read aloud, and bring me my meals on a tray. Nice meals! Real, nice invalidy things, you know, to tempt my appetite.” Mellicent’s eyes rolled instinctively to the table where the jelly and the grapes stood together in tempting proximity. She sighed, and brought herself back with an effort to the painful present. “Goodness, Peggy, how funny your hands look! Just like a mummy! What do they look like when the bandages are off? Very horrible?”“Hideous!” Peggy shrugged her shoulders and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I am going to try to grow old as fast as I can, so that I can wear mittens and cover them up. I’m really rather distressed about it because I am so—so addicted to rings, don’t you know. They have been a weakness of mine all my life, and I’ve looked forward to having my fingers simply loaded with them when I grew up. There is one of mother’s that I especially admire, a big square emerald surrounded with diamonds. She promised to give it to me on my twenty-first birthday, but unless my hands look very different by that time, I shall not want to call attention to them. Alack-a-day! I fear I shall never be able to wear a ring——”“Gracious goodness! Then you can never be married!” ejaculated Mellicent in a tone of such horrified dismay, as evoked a shriek of merriment from the listeners, Peggy’s merry trill sounding clear above the rest. It was just delicious to be well again, to sit among her companions and have one of the old hearty laughs over Mellicent’s quaint speeches. At that moment she was one of the happiest girls in all the world!(To be continued.)

ByJESSIE MANSERGH (Mrs. G. de Horne Vaizey), Author of “Sisters Three,” etc.

“Convalescence,” remarked Peggy elegantly, a week later on, “convalescence is a period not entirely devoid of compensation!” She was lying on a sofa in her bedroom at the Larches, wrapped in her white dressing-gown, and leaning against a nest of pink silk cushions; and what with a table drawn up by her side laden with grapes and jelly, a pile of Christmas numbers lying by her side, and the presence of an audience consisting of Rosalind, Lady Darcy and Mrs. Asplin, ready to listen admiringly to her conversation, and to agree enthusiastically with every word she uttered, it did indeed seem as if the position was one which might be endured with fortitude! Many were the questions which had been showered upon her since her return to consciousness, and the listeners never grew tired of listening to her account of the accident. How Rosalind had clutched too carelessly at the slender candlestick so that it had fallen forward, setting the gauze dress in flames, and how she herself had flown out of the room, torn down the curtains which draped the “harem” and had flung them round the frantic, struggling figure. There were a dozen questions which they were longing to ask, but the remembrance of that tragic evening seemed to excite the little invalid, so that for the present they remained unspoken.

With every day that passed, however, Peggy gained more strength, and was petted to her heart’s content by everyone in the house. The old lord kissed her fondly on the cheek and murmured, “God reward you, my brave girl, for I never can.” Lady Darcy shed tears every morning when the burns were dressed, and said; “Oh, Peggy dear, forgive me for being cross, and do, do be sure to use the lotion for your arms regularly every day when you get better!” and the big Doctor chucked her under the chin and cried,

“Well, ‘Fighting Saville,’ and how are we to-day? You are the pluckiest little patient I’ve had for a long time. I’ll say that for you! Let’s have another taste of the rack!”... It was all most agreeable and soothing to one’s feelings!

One of the first questions Peggy asked after her return to consciousness was as to how much her father and mother had been told of her accident, and whether the news had been sent by letter or cable.

“By letter, dear,” Mrs. Asplin replied. “We talked it over very carefully, and concluded that that would be best. You know, dearie, we were very, very anxious about you for a few days, but the doctor said that it would be useless cabling to your mother, because if all went well you would be up again before she could arrive, and if—if it had gone the other way, Peggy, she could not have been in time. I sent her a letter, and I have written every mail since, and now we are going to calculate the time when the first letter will arrive, and send a cable to say that you are quite out of danger, and sitting up, and getting hungrier and more mischievous with every day as it passes!”

“Thank you,” said Peggy warmly. “That’s very kind. I am glad you thought of that, but will you please promise not to be economical about the cable? They won’t care about the money. Spend pounds over it if it is necessary, but do, do manage to make them believe that I am quite perky. Put at the end ‘Peggy says she is perky!’ They will know that is genuine, and it will convince them more than anything else.” And so those five expressive words went flashing across the world at the end of a long message, and brought comfort to two hearts that had been near to breaking.

So soon as Peggy was pronounced to be out of danger, Mrs. Asplin went back to the vicarage, leaving her in the charge of the kind hospital nurse, though for that matter every member of the household took it in turns to wait upon her. A dozen times a day the master and mistress of the house would come into the sick-room to inquire how things were going, or to bring some little gift for the invalid, and as she grew stronger it became the custom for father, mother and daughter to join her at her early tea. Peggy watched them from her sofa, too weak to speak much, but keenly alive to all that was going on, among other things to the change which had come over these three persons since she had known them first. Lord Darcy had always been kind and considerate, but his manner seemed gentler and more courteous than ever, while Rosalind’s amiability was an hourly surprise, and Lady Darcy’s manner had lost much of its snappish discontent. On one occasion when her husband made some little request, she replied ina tone so sweet and loving that the listener started with surprise. What could it be that had worked this transformation? She did not realise that when the Angel of Death has hovered over a household, and has at last flown away with empty arms, leaving the home untouched, they would be hard hearts that were not touched, ungrateful natures that did not take thought of themselves, and face life with a higher outlook! Lady Darcy’s social disappointments seemed light compared with the awful “might have been”; while Rosalind’s lamentations over her disfigurement had died away at the sight of Peggy’s unconscious form. Perhaps when Lord Darcy thanked Peggy for all she had done for him and his, he had other thoughts in his mind than the mere physical deliverance of which she had been the instrument!

Arthur had been kept well informed of his sister’s recovery, and proved himself the kindest of brothers, sending letters by the dozen, full of such nonsensical jokes, anecdotes, and illustrations, as would have cheered the gloomiest invalid in the world. But the happiest day of all was when the great news arrived that his name was placed first of all in the list of successful candidates for Sandhurst. This was indeed tidings of comfort and joy! Peggy clapped her bandaged hands together, and laughed aloud with tears of pain streaming down her face. “Arthur Saville, V.C., Arthur Saville, V.C.,” she cried, and then fell to groaning because some days must still elapse before the medical examination was over, and her hero was set free to hasten to her side.

“And I shall be back at the vicarage then, and we shall all be together! Oh, let us be joyful! How happy I am! What a nice old world it is, after all,” she continued hilariously, while Rosalind gazed at her with reproachful eyes.

“Are you so glad to go away? I shall be vewy, vewy sowwy—I’ll miss you awfully. I shall feel that there is nothing to do when you have gone away, Peggy!” Rosalind hesitated, and looked at her companion in uncertain bashful fashion. “I—I think you like me a little bit now, and I’m vewwy fond of you, but you couldn’t bear me before we were ill. You might tell me why?”

“I was jealous of you,” said Peggy promptly, whereat Rosalind’s eyes filled with tears.

“You won’t be jealous now!” she said dismally, and raised her head to stare at her own reflection in the mirror. The hair, which had once streamed below her waist, was now cut short round her head, her face had lost its delicate bloom, and an ugly scar disfigured her throat and the lower portion of one cheek. Beautiful she must always be, with her faultless features and wonderful eyes, but the bloom and radiance of colour which had been her chief charm had disappeared, for the time being, as completely as though they had never existed.

“I’ll love you more,” said Peggy reassuringly. “You are ever so much nicer, and you will be as pretty as ever when your hair grows, and the marks fade away. I like you better when you are not quite so pretty, for you really were disgustingly conceited, weren’t you now? You can’t deny it.”

“Oh, Peggy Saville, and so were you! I saw that the first moment you came into the woom! You flared up like a Turkey cock if anyone dared to offend your dignity, and you were always widing about on your high horse tossing your head, and using gweat long words.”

“That’s pride, not conceit. It’s quite a different thing.”

“It seems very much alike to other people,” said Rosalind shrewdly. “We both gave ourselves airs, and the wesult was the same, whatever caused it. I was pwoud of my face, and you were pwoud of your—your—er—family—and your cleverness and—the twicks you played, so if I confess, you ought to confess too. I’m sorry I aggwavated you, Mawiquita, and took all the pwaise for the decowations. It was howwibly mean, and I don’t wonder you were angwy. I’m sorry that I was selfish!”

“I exceedingly regret that I formed a false estimate of your character! Let’s be chums!” said Peggy sweetly, and the two girls eyed one another uncertainly for a moment, then bent forward and exchanged a kiss of conciliation, after which unusual display of emotion, they were seized with instant embarrassment.

“Hem!” said Peggy. “It’s very cold! Fire rather low, I think. Looks as if it were going to snow.”

“No,” said Rosalind, “I mean—yes. I’ll put on some more—I mean coals. In half an hour Esther and Mellicent will be here——”

“Oh, so they will! How lovely!” Peggy seized gladly on the new opening, and proceeded to enlarge on the joy which she felt at the prospect of seeing her friends again, for on that afternoon, Robert and the vicarage party were to be allowed to see her for the first time, and to have tea in her room. She had been looking forward to their visit for days, and now that the longed-for hour was at hand, she was eager to have the lamps lit, and all preparations made for their arrival.

Robert appeared first, having ridden over in advance of the rest. And Rosalind, after going out to greet him, came rushing back, all shaking with laughter, with the information that he had begun to walk on tip-toe the moment that he had left the drawing-room, and was creeping along the passage as if the floor were made of egg-shells.

Peggy craned her head, heard the squeak, squeak of boots coming nearer and nearer, the cautious opening of the door, the heavy breaths of anxiety, and then, crash!—bang!—crash! down flopped the heavy screen round the doorway, and Rob was discovered standing among the ruins in agonies of embarrassment. From his expression of despair, he might have supposed that the shock would kill Peggy outright; but she gulped down her nervousness, and tried her best to reassure him.

“Oh, never mind—never mind! It doesn’t matter. Come over here and talk to me. Oh, Rob, Rob, I am so glad to see you!”

Robert stood looking down in silence, while his lips twitched and his eyebrows worked in curious fashion. If it had not been altogether too ridiculous, Peggy would have thought that he felt inclined to cry. But he only grunted, and cried—

“What a face! You had better tuck into as much food as you can, and get some flesh on your bones. It’s about as big as the palm of my hand! Never saw such a thing in my life.”

“Never mind my face,” piped Peggy in her weak little treble. “Sit right down and talk to me. What is the news in the giddy world? Have you heard anything about the prize? When does the result come out? Remember you promised faithfully not to open the paper until we were together. I was so afraid it would come while I was too ill to look at it!”

“I should have waited,” said Robert sturdily. “There would have been no interest in the thing without you; but the result won’t be given for ten days yet, and by that time you will be with us again. The world hasn’t been at all giddy, I can tell you. I never put in a flatter time. Everybody was in the blues, and the house was like a tomb, and a jolly uncomfortable tomb at that. Esther was housekeeper while Mrs. Asplin was away, and she starved us! She was in such a mortal fright of being extravagant, that she would scarcely give us enough to keep body and soul together, and the things we had were not fit to eat. Nothing but milk puddings and stewed fruit for a week on end. Then we rebelled. I nipped her up in my arms one evening in the school-room and stuck her on the top of the little book-case. Then we mounted guard around, and set forth our views. It would have killed you to see her perched up there, trying to look prim and to keep up her dignity.

“‘Let me down this moment, Robert! Bring a chair and let me get down.’

“‘Will you promise to give us a pie to-morrow then, and a decent sort of a pudding?’

“‘It’s no business of yours what I give you. You ought to be thankful for good wholesome food!’

“‘Milk puddings are not wholesome. They don’t agree with us—they are too rich! We should like something a little lighter for a change. Will you swear off milk puddings for the next fortnight if I let you down?’

“‘You are a cruel, heartless fellow, Robert Darcy—thinking of puddings when Peggy is ill, and we are all so anxious about her!’

“‘Peggy would die at once if she heard how badly you were treating us. Now then, you have kept me waiting for ten minutes, so the price has gone up. You’ll have to promise a pair of ducks and mince pies into the bargain! I shall be ashamed of meeting a sheep soon, if we go on eating mutton every day of the week.’

“‘Call yourself a gentleman!’ saysshe, tossing her head and withering me with a glance of scorn.

“‘I call myself a hungry man, and that’s all we are concerned about for the moment,’ said I. ‘A couple of ducks and two nailing good puddings to-morrow night, or there you sit for the rest of the evening!’

“We went at it hammer and tongs until she was fairly spluttering with rage; but she had to promise before she came down, and we had no more starvation diet after that. Oswald went up to town for a day and bought a pair of blue silk socks and a tie to match—that’s the greatest excitement we have had. The rest has been all worry and grind, and Mellicent on the rampage about Christmas presents. Oh, by-the-by, I printed those photographs you wanted to send to your mother, and packed them off by the mail a fortnight ago, so that she would get them in good time for Christmas.”

“Rob, you didn’t! How noble of you! You really are an admirable person!” Peggy lay back against her pillows and gazed at her “partner” in great contentment of spirit. After living an invalid’s life for these past weeks it was delightfully refreshing to look at the big strong face. The sight of it was like a fresh breeze coming into the close, heated room, and she felt as if some of his superabundant energy had come into her own weak frame.

A little later the vicarage party arrived, and greeted the two convalescents with warmest affection. If they were shocked at the sight of Rosalind’s disfigurement and Peggy’s emaciation, three out of the four were polite enough to disguise their feelings; but it was too much to expect of Mellicent that she should disguise what she happened to be feeling. She stared and gaped, and stared again, stuttering with consternation—

“Why—why—Rosalind—your hair! It’s shorter than mine! It doesn’t come down to your shoulders! Did they cut it all off? What did you do with the rest? And your poor cheek! Will you have that mark all your life?”

“I don’t know. Mother is going to twy electwicity for it. It will fade a good deal, I suppose, but I shall always be a fwight. I’m twying to wesign myself to being a hideous monster!” sighed Rosalind, turning her head towards the window the while in such a position that the scar was hidden from view, and she looked more like the celestial choir-boy of Peggy’s delirium than ever, with the golden locks curling round her neck, and the big eyes raised to the ceiling in a glance of pathetic resignation.

Rob guffawed aloud with the callousness of a brother; but the other two lads gazed at her with an adoring admiration, which was balm to her vain little heart. Vain still, for a nature does not change in a day, and though Rosalind was an infinitely more lovable person now than she had been a few weeks before, the habits of a life-time were still strong upon her, and she could never by any possibility be indifferent to admiration, or pass a mirror without stopping to examine the progress of that disfiguring scar.

“It wouldn’t have mattered half so much if it had been Peggy’s face that was spoiled,” continued Mellicent with cruel outspokenness, “and it is only her hands that are hurt. Things always go the wrong way in this world! I never saw anything like it. You know that night-dress bag I was working for mother, Peggy? Well, I only got two skeins of the blue silk, and then if I didn’t run short, and they hadn’t any more in the shop. The other shades don’t match at all, and it looks simply vile. I am going to give it to—ahem! I mean that’s the sort of thing that always happens to me—it makes me mad! You can’t sew at all, I suppose. What do you do with yourself all day long now that you are able to get up?”

Peggy’s eyes twinkled.

“I sleep,” she said slowly, “and eat, and sleep a little more, and eat again, and talk a little bit, roll into bed, and fall fast asleep. Voilà tout, ma chère! C’est ça que je fais tous les jours.”

Rosalind gave a shriek of laughter at Peggy’s French, and Mellicent rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

“How s—imply lovely!” she sighed. “I wish I were you! I’d like to go to bed in November and stay there till May. In a room like this of course, with everything beautiful and dainty, and a maid to wait upon me. I’d have a fire and an india-rubber hot-water bottle, and I’d lie and sleep and wake up every now and then and make the maid read aloud, and bring me my meals on a tray. Nice meals! Real, nice invalidy things, you know, to tempt my appetite.” Mellicent’s eyes rolled instinctively to the table where the jelly and the grapes stood together in tempting proximity. She sighed, and brought herself back with an effort to the painful present. “Goodness, Peggy, how funny your hands look! Just like a mummy! What do they look like when the bandages are off? Very horrible?”

“Hideous!” Peggy shrugged her shoulders and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I am going to try to grow old as fast as I can, so that I can wear mittens and cover them up. I’m really rather distressed about it because I am so—so addicted to rings, don’t you know. They have been a weakness of mine all my life, and I’ve looked forward to having my fingers simply loaded with them when I grew up. There is one of mother’s that I especially admire, a big square emerald surrounded with diamonds. She promised to give it to me on my twenty-first birthday, but unless my hands look very different by that time, I shall not want to call attention to them. Alack-a-day! I fear I shall never be able to wear a ring——”

“Gracious goodness! Then you can never be married!” ejaculated Mellicent in a tone of such horrified dismay, as evoked a shriek of merriment from the listeners, Peggy’s merry trill sounding clear above the rest. It was just delicious to be well again, to sit among her companions and have one of the old hearty laughs over Mellicent’s quaint speeches. At that moment she was one of the happiest girls in all the world!

(To be continued.)

VARIETIES.How to Read.“With the heart as well as the head,Books worth reading must be read.”Giving.Give, give, be always giving;Who gives not is not living.The more we giveThe more we live.Grammar.—A school teacher, near Dawson, Ga., having instructed a pupil to purchase a grammar, the next day received a note, thus worded, from the child’s mother:—“I do not desire for Lula shall ingage in grammar as i prefer her ingage in yuseful studies and can learn her how to spoke and write properly myself. I have went through two grammars and can’t say as they did me no good. I prefer her ingage in german and drawing and vokal music on the piano.”The Book of the Sky.The great French writer, Victor Hugo, wrote delightful letters to his children, as we might expect from the fond and playful author ofL’Art d’être Grandpère. From one of them we take the following passage. It occurs in a letter sent from Boulogne to his favourite daughter.“All day,” he says, “I was looking at churches and pictures and then at night I gazed at the sky, and thought once more of you as I watched that beautiful constellation, the Chariot of God, which I have taught you to distinguish among the stars.“See, my child, how great God is, and how small we are. Where we put dots of ink He puts suns. These are the letters which He writes. The sky is His book. I shall bless God if you are always able to read it, and I hope you may.”Answer to Triple Acrostic I.(p. 299).1.IdLeR(a)2.RIO(b)3.IoLaS(c)4.StYlE(d)Iris—Lily—Rose.(a)One of the periodicals which, like theSpectator,Rambler,Tatler, &c., were so popular in the early part of the eighteenth century.(b)One of the finest and safest ports in the world. The city was founded in January, 1565, by the Portuguese, who mistook the beautiful bay for the mouth of a large river, and gave it the name of Rio de Janeiro.(c)The companion of Hercules, when he destroyed the Lernœan Hydra.(d)The Roman stylus or style was a sharp point, used for writing on a waxen tablet. The old style was altered in 1582 by Pope Gregory XII. and consisted of passing over ten days in the October of that year; but the new style was not adopted in England until 1752, when the omission of eleven days became necessary in order to rectify the Calendar.

How to Read.

“With the heart as well as the head,Books worth reading must be read.”

“With the heart as well as the head,

Books worth reading must be read.”

Giving.

Give, give, be always giving;Who gives not is not living.The more we giveThe more we live.

Give, give, be always giving;

Who gives not is not living.

The more we give

The more we live.

Grammar.—A school teacher, near Dawson, Ga., having instructed a pupil to purchase a grammar, the next day received a note, thus worded, from the child’s mother:—“I do not desire for Lula shall ingage in grammar as i prefer her ingage in yuseful studies and can learn her how to spoke and write properly myself. I have went through two grammars and can’t say as they did me no good. I prefer her ingage in german and drawing and vokal music on the piano.”

The Book of the Sky.

The great French writer, Victor Hugo, wrote delightful letters to his children, as we might expect from the fond and playful author ofL’Art d’être Grandpère. From one of them we take the following passage. It occurs in a letter sent from Boulogne to his favourite daughter.

“All day,” he says, “I was looking at churches and pictures and then at night I gazed at the sky, and thought once more of you as I watched that beautiful constellation, the Chariot of God, which I have taught you to distinguish among the stars.

“See, my child, how great God is, and how small we are. Where we put dots of ink He puts suns. These are the letters which He writes. The sky is His book. I shall bless God if you are always able to read it, and I hope you may.”

Answer to Triple Acrostic I.(p. 299).

1.IdLeR(a)2.RIO(b)3.IoLaS(c)4.StYlE(d)

1.IdLeR(a)

2.RIO(b)

3.IoLaS(c)

4.StYlE(d)

Iris—Lily—Rose.

(a)One of the periodicals which, like theSpectator,Rambler,Tatler, &c., were so popular in the early part of the eighteenth century.

(b)One of the finest and safest ports in the world. The city was founded in January, 1565, by the Portuguese, who mistook the beautiful bay for the mouth of a large river, and gave it the name of Rio de Janeiro.

(c)The companion of Hercules, when he destroyed the Lernœan Hydra.

(d)The Roman stylus or style was a sharp point, used for writing on a waxen tablet. The old style was altered in 1582 by Pope Gregory XII. and consisted of passing over ten days in the October of that year; but the new style was not adopted in England until 1752, when the omission of eleven days became necessary in order to rectify the Calendar.

A NEW GAME;OR,“HOW DOES YOUR GARDEN GROW?”I wentout the other night to an evening party, a thoroughly enjoyable one of the old-fashioned type, where we played games, did what we liked, and were not afraid of being thought silly because we were amused by simple things. One of the games struck me as peculiarly pretty and not too difficult for anyone to join in, and as it was new to me I write it down in case our girls have not heard of it before.It was started during supper by one of the two hostesses remarking, “I have a little garden and in it I buried a private soldier. What flower did he come up?”As we none of us guessed it she gave us the answer, “A scarlet runner!” but carefully explained that he ran towards the foe, not away from him!Then someone next her went on, “I, too, have a little garden and in it I buried my lover wounded in the wars. What flower did he come up?”The answer to this was, “Love lies bleeding.”A young lady present whose father is a well-known editor, and is called John, covered herself with glory by burying him and announcing that he came up a “Jon-quil!”She also buried her youngest brother Willie, who strongly objected to the process, but was mollified when he found he came up as “Sweet William!”I personally “buried my lover in a London fog,” so that he came up “Love in a Mist.”The fun grew fast and furious till trees and vegetables came into play, and one girl paid a pretty compliment by asking, “I buried a pretty person. What tree did she come up?” but no one must guess it as the answer is “Yew!”Below I give a few questions and answers to make it clear.Of course these are only a few, but anyone could easily find out as many more, and it is surprising how readily suitable symbols come to your mind and how interesting the game becomes.It can also be amplified into buried cities, but the floral form is the prettiest of any.Question.Answer.I buried a satin shoe, and it came up asA lady’s slipper.I buried a race-horse, and it came up asSpeed-well.I buried a tramp, and he came up asRagged Robin.I buried my sorrows, and they came up asSweet peas (peace).I buried a kiss, and it came up asTulips (two lips).I buried a colt, and it came upA peony (pony).I buried a special dog, and it came upA cauliflower (collie).I buried the sea-shore, and it came upA beech (beach).I buried a secret, and it came upInviolate (violet).I buried the Union Jack and Stars and Stripes, and they came up asFlags!I buried a well-dressed Society hero, and he came upA dandelion.I buried a bird and a piece of metal, and they came up asLark-spur.I buried a pony’s hoof, and it came up asColt’s-foot.I buried two invalid bachelors, and they came up asCyclamen (sickly men).decorative

I wentout the other night to an evening party, a thoroughly enjoyable one of the old-fashioned type, where we played games, did what we liked, and were not afraid of being thought silly because we were amused by simple things. One of the games struck me as peculiarly pretty and not too difficult for anyone to join in, and as it was new to me I write it down in case our girls have not heard of it before.

It was started during supper by one of the two hostesses remarking, “I have a little garden and in it I buried a private soldier. What flower did he come up?”

As we none of us guessed it she gave us the answer, “A scarlet runner!” but carefully explained that he ran towards the foe, not away from him!

Then someone next her went on, “I, too, have a little garden and in it I buried my lover wounded in the wars. What flower did he come up?”

The answer to this was, “Love lies bleeding.”

A young lady present whose father is a well-known editor, and is called John, covered herself with glory by burying him and announcing that he came up a “Jon-quil!”

She also buried her youngest brother Willie, who strongly objected to the process, but was mollified when he found he came up as “Sweet William!”

I personally “buried my lover in a London fog,” so that he came up “Love in a Mist.”

The fun grew fast and furious till trees and vegetables came into play, and one girl paid a pretty compliment by asking, “I buried a pretty person. What tree did she come up?” but no one must guess it as the answer is “Yew!”

Below I give a few questions and answers to make it clear.

Of course these are only a few, but anyone could easily find out as many more, and it is surprising how readily suitable symbols come to your mind and how interesting the game becomes.

It can also be amplified into buried cities, but the floral form is the prettiest of any.

Question.Answer.I buried a satin shoe, and it came up asA lady’s slipper.I buried a race-horse, and it came up asSpeed-well.I buried a tramp, and he came up asRagged Robin.I buried my sorrows, and they came up asSweet peas (peace).I buried a kiss, and it came up asTulips (two lips).I buried a colt, and it came upA peony (pony).I buried a special dog, and it came upA cauliflower (collie).I buried the sea-shore, and it came upA beech (beach).I buried a secret, and it came upInviolate (violet).I buried the Union Jack and Stars and Stripes, and they came up asFlags!I buried a well-dressed Society hero, and he came upA dandelion.I buried a bird and a piece of metal, and they came up asLark-spur.I buried a pony’s hoof, and it came up asColt’s-foot.I buried two invalid bachelors, and they came up asCyclamen (sickly men).

decorative

HIS GREAT REWARD.CHAPTER IV.Magnus Duncanwas in a brown study. Rick, his terrier, had been endeavouring for some time past to attract his master’s attention, but so far his efforts had been fruitless.Patients had been and gone, and the consulting-room was empty save for Rick and his master, but still Magnus made no move to get his hat and go for a walk as his custom was.Rick could not understand it, so, finding that poking his nose into the hand that hung down over the arm of the chair, and giving vent to small whines, produced no effect, he suddenly jumped on to his master’s knee and commenced to lick vigorously the hand upon which Magnus had rested his forehead.With a start and a laugh Magnus came back to earth, for, if the truth must be told, he had been indulging in a habit which had become common with him of late, viz., building castles in the air. In these, too, a very large part was played by a certain golden-haired, hazel-eyed young lady known to the reader under the name of Marielle Heritage.For it had come to this, that Magnus Duncan’s true heart had found its liege lady, and his life’s happiness depended upon the answer that Marielle would give to a certain question which he intended to put to her before long.“If I could only be sure of her!” sighed Magnus to himself. “But she is so modest and shy, she will never let me be certain she cares for me. I think she does though, in spite of the reserve she wraps herself up in. My queen!”Humming unconsciously the air of Blumenthal’s exquisite song, young Dr. Duncan got up and fetched his hat and stick. Rick took this as an invitation to a walk, and immediately began to utter a series of sharp shrill barks expressive of his delight at the prospect. But he was doomed to disappointment after all, for just as Magnus was leaving the house a messenger came up in hot haste bearing a note.Opening it the young man read, “Please come at once to 27, York Road. My mother is seriously ill, and I do not know what is the matter with her.—M. H.”Magnus only waited to secure his bag, into which he put various things of use in emergencies, then hailing a hansom he was driven rapidly along to York Road.Arrived there he was shown up at once into the room where Mrs. Heritage was lying in bed, with Marielle standing anxiously beside her.One glance from the keen blue eyes at the face upon the pillow told Magnus Duncan what was amiss.Marielle only whispered, “I am so glad you have come,” then turning to Mrs. Heritage said, “Mother darling, here is the doctor come to see you.”An inarticulate effort at speech accompanied by a bewildered look was the only response, and Marielle turned the most piteous of faces to meet the kindly eyes of the young man, saying, “She has been like this for nearly two hours now, and I cannot think what causes it.”Magnus Duncan beckoned the girl to come a little further away from the invalid while he made a careful examination of the helpless limbs. He could not trust himself to speak at the moment. Her trouble almost unmanned him.The examination over, the young doctor asked that one of the servants might be told to remain in the sick-room while he had a little talk with Marielle downstairs, and as soon as they reached the little drawing-room he asked, “Tell me just how this began?”“It began with a cold,” replied Marielle. “I had a slight one on Sunday and was unable to go out, so mother said she would not walk so far as St. Jude’s by herself, but would go to St. Saviour’s instead for once. When she came back she was shivering, and she told me she had been shown into a pew close beside a damp wall. She sneezed violently, she said, so many times that people turned to look at her, and she did notlike to attract further attention by coming out. On Monday and Tuesday she got up as usual, but yesterday I persuaded her to stay in bed as her cold was no better, and to-day she became as you see her now. I thought at first that she was only drowsy, then I became very uneasy and sent for you.”“Have you never seen paralysis before?” asked Magnus gently.“Oh, no! Oh! it cannot be that, surely. Oh, say it is not that!” Yet as she asked, she knew it must be so, from the pitiful look in the honest eyes that met her own.How hard it was for Magnus to stand by and witness Marielle’s grief and be obliged to suppress his longing to take her in his arms and comfort her, was a secret that remained locked in his breast.He impressed upon her the necessity for being brave, and after giving a few directions, took his leave, promising to send a nurse in at once.It was the beginning of what proved to be a long and trying illness for poor Mrs. Heritage. Indeed at first it seemed a little doubtful whether she would ever recover, but this was during the first week only. After that, the improvement in her condition though very slow was sure, and though it was not likely that she would ever again be so strong and well as formerly, there was every reason to hope that in time she might be able to resume to a great extent her former active life. Magnus Duncan continued to treat the case himself, by common consent. Paralysis was a subject to which he had given special study and attention, and although the older doctor accompanied his son once or twice at first, it was more as a matter of form than anything. It is superfluous to say that every expedient that skill and devotion could bring to bear upon the case was resorted to by the young doctor, and his unceasing efforts were not lost upon either Marielle or the invalid. Both mother and daughter had been from the beginning of the acquaintanceship, strongly attracted towards him. He was so manly and straightforward, so courteous and polite to the weaker sex, yet without being in any way effeminate.Long since Mrs. Heritage had awakened to the fact that her child was the object of devoted love on the part of Magnus Duncan, and far from feeling any displeasure at the idea, she rejoiced exceedingly. There was no one to whose care she would so gladly give her beloved daughter. It would be an inexpressible comfort to think of her darling having a strong arm and true heart to defend her, when she herself had been gathered to her last long home.Yet, like Magnus, Mrs. Heritage was not sure of Marielle’s feelings towards the young doctor. The girl was so maidenly and modest, so free from conceit, that even if she really reciprocated his love, she would not show it until certain that she was indeed sought by him.Neither mother nor lover need have been uneasy, however, for circumstances were lending themselves to aid their dearest wish, and Marielle’s heart had been won during these long weeks of her mother’s illness.Magnus as an acquaintance or friend had always been charming, but Magnus in a sick-room was a revelation to Marielle. His quiet, yet withal bright and cheery, manner was the very perfection of what a medical man’s should be. It neither startled nor depressed his patients by being either boisterous or melancholy; and the gentle touch and tenderness with which from time to time he examined the paralysed limbs of Mrs. Heritage made Marielle glow with gratitude, and resolve that when a fitting opportunity presented itself she would not fail to thank Magnus for all his kindness.Somehow she had an inkling that a few words from herself would have more value in his eyes than the biggest fee she could offer him.At the thought of the doctor’s and other bills that would have to be paid, Marielle’s heart sank. It would be rather difficult to meet them all out of their slender income, and for a month past she had done nothing to earn money, owing to her mother’s illness. Now, however, it was no longer necessary for the nurse or anyone to sit up all night with the invalid, and Marielle decided to sleep in her mother’s room at night and let the nurse take the day duty.Accordingly she notified her pupils to the effect that she would be able to resume her teaching the following week, and prepared to work hard.Hence it came about that one day about a fortnight later Magnus Duncan, calling in to see Mrs. Heritage, who was promoted to a sofa for a while in the afternoon now, found her alone, Nurse Rigby having gone to prepare some little invalid delicacy, and Marielle being out.Mrs. Heritage, who was making rapid progress towards health, noticed the quick glance around that the young doctor gave, and answered it by remarking quietly:“Marielle is out.”Magnus reddened at having his thoughts read so easily, but met the glance bent on him by one as steady. Then he resolved to take her into his confidence, and went straight to the point.“I see you have guessed my secret,” he said. “Tell me, shall I have your consent if I win her?”Mrs. Heritage held out her hand, and replied, as Magnus clasped it with his own:“Yes, and my blessing too. There is no one I know to whom I would so gladly give my child.”“Bless you for that!” cried Magnus. “But do you think she cares for me?”“Ask her, and see,” said Marielle’s mother, smiling. “Remember she is not a girl to wear her heart on her sleeve.”“When can I see her?” asked Magnus.“Well, she is teaching at Forman’s to-day,” said Mrs. Heritage, “but she finishes about half-past three, and I persuaded her to come home by Roxton Road and take a walk in the park. She is rather pale after nursing me and being indoors so much, and I thought it would do her good. She is so fond of the Rose-walk that she is sure to stop some time, so I do not think you will see her to-day, unless”—smiling—“you come again on purpose. You must make your own opportunity, but whenever it may be, I shall rejoice so that you bring me good news.”In response to this kindly speech Magnus Duncan just bent over the invalid and gave her a hearty kiss, then bade her good-bye, and was leaving the room when he turned back to say:“I had nearly forgotten my message. My mother asked when she could come and see you, and I told her any time now, as you were doing so nicely; so she sent her love, and I was to say she would come to-morrow afternoon for a little while. Mr. Mellis also waylaid me as I was coming here to-day with a similar inquiry, so I promised to prepare you for a visit from him too. Dear old man! he has been so anxious about you. He would not come to-morrow as my mother is coming, but the day after.” And with a nod and bright smile Magnus went on his way.Odd, wasn’t it, that as soon as he stepped into the road the young doctor’s feet should turn in the direction of the High Park? The sly fellow had been calculating the time at which Marielle could arrive there, and had come to the determination to seek her and learn his fate from her own lips without further delay.He was in such a hurry to reach the Rose-walk, and so absorbed in his own thoughts, that he narrowly escaped being run over at a street-crossing, but he never checked his pace until he actually reached the spot where he expected to find his love.At first he failed to see her, and a blank feeling of disappointment crept over him. The next moment he descried her in the midst of a group of merry children. One darling tot had fallen and grazed her knee, and Marielle was sitting with the little one in her lap, kissing away the tears, and tenderly wiping the place with her handkerchief.Magnus stood and watched her there with adoring eyes until, smiles having been restored to the baby face of the child, she put her down from her lap to run to her companions, and rose herself to go home.Turning, she met the rapt gaze of Magnus Duncan—whom she had not hitherto perceived—which made her heart beat fast and the blood leap to her face. With an immense effort at self-control she held out her hand, with the remark:“Dr. Duncan! I did not expect to meet you here.”“No? I have been to see your mother.”“She is not worse, is she?” cried Marielle hastily.“Oh, no!” answered Magnus, smiling reassuringly. “In fact, she is making a splendid recovery, thanks to your good nursing.”“Thanks to your kind care and attention, you mean,” responded Marielle. Then, her voice faltering a little: “Dr. Duncan, I cannot tell you how I have thought about it, or what it has been to me, but I can never, never thank you sufficiently for all your goodness to my darling mother. Oh! if I were rich I would show you my gratitude in a practical way, but I am only poor as yet, and thanks are all I have to give you.”They had turned into a shady alley, where they were quite alone, and as Marielle spoke she raised her eyes, brimming with tears, to meet those of the man at her side.“All you have to give me, Marielle? Why, you have it in your power to give me the greatest reward that was ever bestowed on medical man!” Then, tenderly taking her hand in his: “Won’t you give it me, my darling? It is yourself I want.”Trembling all over, Marielle essayed to answer, but words would not come. Instead she pressed the hand that held her own, and looked up with a face like an April day, half smiles, half tears.Magnus Duncan read her reply aright, and strained her to his heart.“Ah!” said Marielle archly, a little later on, “you say it is your greatest reward, but”—gravely—“I had a far greater still—once.”“I know all about it, my darling, and it only makes me feel myself doubly blessed in having won your love,” was Magnus Duncan’s tender reply, as he drew Marielle’s hand within his arm and they strolled slowly homewards.“It was a very pretty wedding,” was the general remark about that which was solemnised at St. Jude’s the following June. The bride looked lovely in her shimmering white robes, followed by six of her pupils as bridesmaids; and the bridegroom looked so proud and happy.No tears were shed, for Marielle had begged there might not be, since she was not going to be separated from her mother for long; and as everyone was pleased and happy, why should they weep?“If ever I marry,” had been Marielle’s remark some years before, “I will not go crying to my husband; it would be such a poor compliment.”And she kept her word.R. S. C.

Magnus Duncanwas in a brown study. Rick, his terrier, had been endeavouring for some time past to attract his master’s attention, but so far his efforts had been fruitless.

Patients had been and gone, and the consulting-room was empty save for Rick and his master, but still Magnus made no move to get his hat and go for a walk as his custom was.

Rick could not understand it, so, finding that poking his nose into the hand that hung down over the arm of the chair, and giving vent to small whines, produced no effect, he suddenly jumped on to his master’s knee and commenced to lick vigorously the hand upon which Magnus had rested his forehead.

With a start and a laugh Magnus came back to earth, for, if the truth must be told, he had been indulging in a habit which had become common with him of late, viz., building castles in the air. In these, too, a very large part was played by a certain golden-haired, hazel-eyed young lady known to the reader under the name of Marielle Heritage.

For it had come to this, that Magnus Duncan’s true heart had found its liege lady, and his life’s happiness depended upon the answer that Marielle would give to a certain question which he intended to put to her before long.

“If I could only be sure of her!” sighed Magnus to himself. “But she is so modest and shy, she will never let me be certain she cares for me. I think she does though, in spite of the reserve she wraps herself up in. My queen!”

Humming unconsciously the air of Blumenthal’s exquisite song, young Dr. Duncan got up and fetched his hat and stick. Rick took this as an invitation to a walk, and immediately began to utter a series of sharp shrill barks expressive of his delight at the prospect. But he was doomed to disappointment after all, for just as Magnus was leaving the house a messenger came up in hot haste bearing a note.

Opening it the young man read, “Please come at once to 27, York Road. My mother is seriously ill, and I do not know what is the matter with her.—M. H.”

Magnus only waited to secure his bag, into which he put various things of use in emergencies, then hailing a hansom he was driven rapidly along to York Road.

Arrived there he was shown up at once into the room where Mrs. Heritage was lying in bed, with Marielle standing anxiously beside her.

One glance from the keen blue eyes at the face upon the pillow told Magnus Duncan what was amiss.

Marielle only whispered, “I am so glad you have come,” then turning to Mrs. Heritage said, “Mother darling, here is the doctor come to see you.”

An inarticulate effort at speech accompanied by a bewildered look was the only response, and Marielle turned the most piteous of faces to meet the kindly eyes of the young man, saying, “She has been like this for nearly two hours now, and I cannot think what causes it.”

Magnus Duncan beckoned the girl to come a little further away from the invalid while he made a careful examination of the helpless limbs. He could not trust himself to speak at the moment. Her trouble almost unmanned him.

The examination over, the young doctor asked that one of the servants might be told to remain in the sick-room while he had a little talk with Marielle downstairs, and as soon as they reached the little drawing-room he asked, “Tell me just how this began?”

“It began with a cold,” replied Marielle. “I had a slight one on Sunday and was unable to go out, so mother said she would not walk so far as St. Jude’s by herself, but would go to St. Saviour’s instead for once. When she came back she was shivering, and she told me she had been shown into a pew close beside a damp wall. She sneezed violently, she said, so many times that people turned to look at her, and she did notlike to attract further attention by coming out. On Monday and Tuesday she got up as usual, but yesterday I persuaded her to stay in bed as her cold was no better, and to-day she became as you see her now. I thought at first that she was only drowsy, then I became very uneasy and sent for you.”

“Have you never seen paralysis before?” asked Magnus gently.

“Oh, no! Oh! it cannot be that, surely. Oh, say it is not that!” Yet as she asked, she knew it must be so, from the pitiful look in the honest eyes that met her own.

How hard it was for Magnus to stand by and witness Marielle’s grief and be obliged to suppress his longing to take her in his arms and comfort her, was a secret that remained locked in his breast.

He impressed upon her the necessity for being brave, and after giving a few directions, took his leave, promising to send a nurse in at once.

It was the beginning of what proved to be a long and trying illness for poor Mrs. Heritage. Indeed at first it seemed a little doubtful whether she would ever recover, but this was during the first week only. After that, the improvement in her condition though very slow was sure, and though it was not likely that she would ever again be so strong and well as formerly, there was every reason to hope that in time she might be able to resume to a great extent her former active life. Magnus Duncan continued to treat the case himself, by common consent. Paralysis was a subject to which he had given special study and attention, and although the older doctor accompanied his son once or twice at first, it was more as a matter of form than anything. It is superfluous to say that every expedient that skill and devotion could bring to bear upon the case was resorted to by the young doctor, and his unceasing efforts were not lost upon either Marielle or the invalid. Both mother and daughter had been from the beginning of the acquaintanceship, strongly attracted towards him. He was so manly and straightforward, so courteous and polite to the weaker sex, yet without being in any way effeminate.

Long since Mrs. Heritage had awakened to the fact that her child was the object of devoted love on the part of Magnus Duncan, and far from feeling any displeasure at the idea, she rejoiced exceedingly. There was no one to whose care she would so gladly give her beloved daughter. It would be an inexpressible comfort to think of her darling having a strong arm and true heart to defend her, when she herself had been gathered to her last long home.

Yet, like Magnus, Mrs. Heritage was not sure of Marielle’s feelings towards the young doctor. The girl was so maidenly and modest, so free from conceit, that even if she really reciprocated his love, she would not show it until certain that she was indeed sought by him.

Neither mother nor lover need have been uneasy, however, for circumstances were lending themselves to aid their dearest wish, and Marielle’s heart had been won during these long weeks of her mother’s illness.

Magnus as an acquaintance or friend had always been charming, but Magnus in a sick-room was a revelation to Marielle. His quiet, yet withal bright and cheery, manner was the very perfection of what a medical man’s should be. It neither startled nor depressed his patients by being either boisterous or melancholy; and the gentle touch and tenderness with which from time to time he examined the paralysed limbs of Mrs. Heritage made Marielle glow with gratitude, and resolve that when a fitting opportunity presented itself she would not fail to thank Magnus for all his kindness.

Somehow she had an inkling that a few words from herself would have more value in his eyes than the biggest fee she could offer him.

At the thought of the doctor’s and other bills that would have to be paid, Marielle’s heart sank. It would be rather difficult to meet them all out of their slender income, and for a month past she had done nothing to earn money, owing to her mother’s illness. Now, however, it was no longer necessary for the nurse or anyone to sit up all night with the invalid, and Marielle decided to sleep in her mother’s room at night and let the nurse take the day duty.

Accordingly she notified her pupils to the effect that she would be able to resume her teaching the following week, and prepared to work hard.

Hence it came about that one day about a fortnight later Magnus Duncan, calling in to see Mrs. Heritage, who was promoted to a sofa for a while in the afternoon now, found her alone, Nurse Rigby having gone to prepare some little invalid delicacy, and Marielle being out.

Mrs. Heritage, who was making rapid progress towards health, noticed the quick glance around that the young doctor gave, and answered it by remarking quietly:

“Marielle is out.”

Magnus reddened at having his thoughts read so easily, but met the glance bent on him by one as steady. Then he resolved to take her into his confidence, and went straight to the point.

“I see you have guessed my secret,” he said. “Tell me, shall I have your consent if I win her?”

Mrs. Heritage held out her hand, and replied, as Magnus clasped it with his own:

“Yes, and my blessing too. There is no one I know to whom I would so gladly give my child.”

“Bless you for that!” cried Magnus. “But do you think she cares for me?”

“Ask her, and see,” said Marielle’s mother, smiling. “Remember she is not a girl to wear her heart on her sleeve.”

“When can I see her?” asked Magnus.

“Well, she is teaching at Forman’s to-day,” said Mrs. Heritage, “but she finishes about half-past three, and I persuaded her to come home by Roxton Road and take a walk in the park. She is rather pale after nursing me and being indoors so much, and I thought it would do her good. She is so fond of the Rose-walk that she is sure to stop some time, so I do not think you will see her to-day, unless”—smiling—“you come again on purpose. You must make your own opportunity, but whenever it may be, I shall rejoice so that you bring me good news.”

In response to this kindly speech Magnus Duncan just bent over the invalid and gave her a hearty kiss, then bade her good-bye, and was leaving the room when he turned back to say:

“I had nearly forgotten my message. My mother asked when she could come and see you, and I told her any time now, as you were doing so nicely; so she sent her love, and I was to say she would come to-morrow afternoon for a little while. Mr. Mellis also waylaid me as I was coming here to-day with a similar inquiry, so I promised to prepare you for a visit from him too. Dear old man! he has been so anxious about you. He would not come to-morrow as my mother is coming, but the day after.” And with a nod and bright smile Magnus went on his way.

Odd, wasn’t it, that as soon as he stepped into the road the young doctor’s feet should turn in the direction of the High Park? The sly fellow had been calculating the time at which Marielle could arrive there, and had come to the determination to seek her and learn his fate from her own lips without further delay.

He was in such a hurry to reach the Rose-walk, and so absorbed in his own thoughts, that he narrowly escaped being run over at a street-crossing, but he never checked his pace until he actually reached the spot where he expected to find his love.

At first he failed to see her, and a blank feeling of disappointment crept over him. The next moment he descried her in the midst of a group of merry children. One darling tot had fallen and grazed her knee, and Marielle was sitting with the little one in her lap, kissing away the tears, and tenderly wiping the place with her handkerchief.

Magnus stood and watched her there with adoring eyes until, smiles having been restored to the baby face of the child, she put her down from her lap to run to her companions, and rose herself to go home.

Turning, she met the rapt gaze of Magnus Duncan—whom she had not hitherto perceived—which made her heart beat fast and the blood leap to her face. With an immense effort at self-control she held out her hand, with the remark:

“Dr. Duncan! I did not expect to meet you here.”

“No? I have been to see your mother.”

“She is not worse, is she?” cried Marielle hastily.

“Oh, no!” answered Magnus, smiling reassuringly. “In fact, she is making a splendid recovery, thanks to your good nursing.”

“Thanks to your kind care and attention, you mean,” responded Marielle. Then, her voice faltering a little: “Dr. Duncan, I cannot tell you how I have thought about it, or what it has been to me, but I can never, never thank you sufficiently for all your goodness to my darling mother. Oh! if I were rich I would show you my gratitude in a practical way, but I am only poor as yet, and thanks are all I have to give you.”

They had turned into a shady alley, where they were quite alone, and as Marielle spoke she raised her eyes, brimming with tears, to meet those of the man at her side.

“All you have to give me, Marielle? Why, you have it in your power to give me the greatest reward that was ever bestowed on medical man!” Then, tenderly taking her hand in his: “Won’t you give it me, my darling? It is yourself I want.”

Trembling all over, Marielle essayed to answer, but words would not come. Instead she pressed the hand that held her own, and looked up with a face like an April day, half smiles, half tears.

Magnus Duncan read her reply aright, and strained her to his heart.

“Ah!” said Marielle archly, a little later on, “you say it is your greatest reward, but”—gravely—“I had a far greater still—once.”

“I know all about it, my darling, and it only makes me feel myself doubly blessed in having won your love,” was Magnus Duncan’s tender reply, as he drew Marielle’s hand within his arm and they strolled slowly homewards.

“It was a very pretty wedding,” was the general remark about that which was solemnised at St. Jude’s the following June. The bride looked lovely in her shimmering white robes, followed by six of her pupils as bridesmaids; and the bridegroom looked so proud and happy.

No tears were shed, for Marielle had begged there might not be, since she was not going to be separated from her mother for long; and as everyone was pleased and happy, why should they weep?

“If ever I marry,” had been Marielle’s remark some years before, “I will not go crying to my husband; it would be such a poor compliment.”

And she kept her word.

R. S. C.

Back to Index Next