"Why were you afraid to show me this picture, Winny?" asked the youth.

"Because it's not like you," was her answer.

"Well, like or not, I'm greatly pleased with it, and must beg it from
you as a memorial----"

"Of what?" she interrupted, startled by his change of manner.

"Of yourself," he replied, in a mournful tone. "I shall value it highly,
and will promise never to part with it. Winny, this is the last night I
shall pass beneath your father's roof."

"Have you told him so?" she inquired, reproachfully. "No; but I shall,
before he retires to rest."

"Then you _will_ stay!" she cried, clapping her hands joyfully, "for I'm
sure he won't part with you. Oh! thank you--thank you! I'm so happy!"

"Stop, Winny!" he answered, gravely; "I haven't promised yet."

"But you will,--won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the
face.

Unable to withstand this appeal, Thames gave the required promise,
adding,--"Oh! Winny, I wish Mr. Wood had been my father, as well as
yours."

"So do I!" she cried; "for then you would have been _really_ my brother.
No, I don't, either; because----"