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"It was placed here; I feel it, I know it," says Mona, solemnly, laying her hand upon the panel. Her earnestness impresses him. He wakes into life.,

"Will you have something to eat Geoffrey?" says Mona.,

"Oh, well, that's it," says Mr. Darling, somewhat relieved. "I'm an awful duffer not to have guessed that Geoffrey's being out would keep you awake.",

Next morning the wife and the little boy went out to dig roots, and the woman took the root digger with her, while the dog followed the little boy.

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"I have no card but my name is Geoffrey Rodney," says the young man, turning to his companion.,

"But do," goes on Violet, in her soft, even monotone, that is so exactly suited to her face. "It is rather pleasant thinking. Confession, you know, is so soothing; and then there are always the dear saints, with their delightful tales of roses and lilies, and tears that turn into drops of healing balm, and their bones that lie in little glass cases in the churches abroad. It is all so picturesque and pretty, like an Italian landscape. And it is so comfortable, too, to know that, no matter how naughty we may be here, we can still get to heaven at last by doing some great and charitable deed.",

When she has finished, Geoffrey says "thank you" in a low tone. He is thinking of the last time when some one else sang to him, and of how different the whole scene was from this. It was at the Towers, and the hour with its dying daylight, rises before him. The subdued light of the summer eve, the open window, the perfume of the drowsy flowers, the girl at the piano with her small drooping head and her perfectly trained and very pretty voice, the room, the soft silence, his mother leaning back in her crimson velvet chair, beating time to the music with her long jewelled, fingers,—all is remembered.,

"You are tired," says he, tenderly.