'Nonsense, little goose. No man has ever come near you!'

'Yes, he did. He stood there. Just by Norah. A man with hair and a
beard. And he knelt down and said his prayers. Norah knows he was
here, mother' (half angrily, as Mrs Openshaw shook her head in smiling
incredulity).

'Well! we will ask Norah when she comes,' said Mrs Openshaw,
soothingly. 'But we won't talk any more about him now. It is not five
o'clock; it is too early for you to get up. Shall I fetch you a book
and read to you?'

'Don't leave me, mother,' said the child, clinging to her. So Mrs
Openshaw sat on the bedside talking to Ailsie, and telling her of what
they had done at Richmond the evening before, until the little girl's
eyes slowly closed and she once more fell asleep.

'What was the matter?' asked Mr Openshaw, as his wife returned to bed.

'Ailsie wakened up in a fright, with some story of a man having been
in the room to say his prayers--a dream, I suppose.' And no more was
said at the time.

Mrs Openshaw had almost forgotten the whole affair when she got up
about seven o'clock. But, by and by, she heard a sharp altercation
going on in the nursery--Norah speaking angrily to Ailsie, a most
unusual thing. Both Mr and Mrs Openshaw listened in astonishment.

'Hold your tongue, Ailsie! let me hear none of your dreams; never let
me hear you tell that story again!'