his face with the kisses he had so hungered to give him, but in his
morbid state of mind he dared not, lest he should contaminate him, so he
restrained himself with a mighty effort, and replied:

"No, Grey, no; I cannot take you. I am tired, too."

"Is you sick?" was Grey's next question, to which his grandfather
replied:

"No, I am not sick," while he clasped both his hands tightly over his
head out of reach of the baby fingers, which sometimes tried to touch
them.

"Is you sorry, then?" Grey continued, and the grandfather replied:

"Yes, child, very, very sorry."

There was the sound of a sob in the old man's voice, and Grey's blue
eyes opened wider as they looked wistfully at the lips trembling with
emotion.

"Has you been a naughty boy?" he said; and, with a sound like a moan,
Grandpa Jerrold replied:

"Yes, yes, very, very naughty. God grant you may never know how
naughty."

"Then why don't Auntie Hannah sut oo up in 'e bed'oom?" Grey asked, with
the utmost gravity, for, in his mind, naughtiness and being shut up in
his aunt's bedroom, the only punishment ever inflicted upon him, were