should sleep in a comfortable and wholesome room, which she herself would
share.

"And I know you will be careful, won't you," said Barbox Brothers, as a
new fear dawned upon him, "that she don't fall out of bed?"

Polly found this so highly entertaining that she was under the necessity
of clutching him round the neck with both arms as he sat on his footstool
picking up the cards, and rocking him to and fro, with her dimpled chin
on his shoulder.

"Oh, what a coward you are, ain't you?" said Polly. "Do you fall out of
bed?"

"N--not generally, Polly."

"No more do I."

With that, Polly gave him a reassuring hug or two to keep him going, and
then giving that confiding mite of a hand of hers to be swallowed up in
the hand of the Constantinopolitan chamber-maid, trotted off, chattering,
without a vestige of anxiety.

He looked after her, had the screen removed and the table and chairs
replaced, and still looked after her. He paced the room for half an
hour. "A most engaging little creature, but it's not that. A most
winning little voice, but it's not that. That has much to do with it,
but there is something more. How can it be that I seem to know this
child? What was it she imperfectly recalled to me when I felt her touch
in the street, and, looking down at her, saw her looking up at me?"