"The child is well, Lala."

"Her mind wandered this morning. She failed to perceive a simple
method which I tried to teach her. I feared she might be ill."

"She is not ill, my friend, but I think her mind is troubled."

"She is a woman. We are men. There is nothing in the world that is
able to trouble the mind of the philosopher."

"Nothing," said Mr. Emblem manfully, as if he, too, was a disciple.
"Nothing; is there now?"

The stoutness of the assertion was sensibly impaired by the question.

"Not poverty, which is a shadow; nor pain, which passes; nor the loss
of woman's love, which is a gain; nor fall from greatness--nothing.
Nevertheless," his eyes did look anxious in spite of his philosophy,
"this trouble of the child--will it soon be over?"

"I hope this evening," said Mr. Emblem. "Indeed I am sure that it will
be finished this evening."

"If the child had a mother, or a brother, or any protectors but
ourselves, my friend, we might leave her to them. But she has nobody
except you and me. I am glad that she is not ill."

He left Mr. Emblem, and passing through the door of communication
between house and shop, went noiselessly up the stairs.