do say he ran away with Mrs. Walmers); and then he gently shakes the
little shoulder.

"Harry, my dear boy! Harry!"

Master Harry starts up and looks at him. Looks at Cobbs too. Such is
the honour of that mite, that he looks at Cobbs, to see whether he has
brought him into trouble.

"I am not angry, my child. I only want you to dress yourself and come
home."

"Yes, pa."

Master Harry dresses himself quickly. His breast begins to swell when he
has nearly finished, and it swells more and more as he stands, at last, a
looking at his father: his father standing a looking at him, the quiet
image of him.

"Please may I"--the spirit of that little creatur, and the way he kept
his rising tears down!--"please, dear pa--may I--kiss Norah before I go?"

"You may, my child."

So he takes Master Harry in his hand, and Boots leads the way with the
candle, and they come to that other bedroom, where the elderly lady is
seated by the bed, and poor little Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior, is fast
asleep. There the father lifts the child up to the pillow, and he lays
his little face down for an instant by the little warm face of poor
unconscious little Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior, and gently draws it to