He and Miss Anna turned.

'Hush, please!' said Fenwick to his companion, finger on lip; and they
entered.

'You'll have got the money from Mr. Morrison, John?' said Phoebe,
presently, when they were settled to their meal.

'Aye,' said Fenwick, 'that's all right. Phoebe, that's a real pretty
dress of yours.'

Soft colour rose in the wife's cheeks.

'I'm glad you like it,' said Phoebe, soberly. Then looking up--

'John--don't give Carrie that!--it'll make her sick.'

For Fenwick was stealthily feeding the baby beside him with morsels
from his own plate. The child's face--pink mouth and blue eyes, both
wide open--hung upon him in a fixed expectancy.

'She does like it so--the little greedy puss! It won't do her any
harm.'

But the mother persisted. Then the child cried, and the father and
mother wrangled over it, till Fenwick caught up the babe by Phoebe's
peremptory directions and carried it away upstairs. At the door of
the little parlour, while Phoebe was at his shoulder, wiping away the
child's tears and cooing to it, Fenwick suddenly turned his head and
kissed his wife's cheek, or rather her pretty ear, which presented