maintain his ill-humor against the invader. His face became triply
armed with severity for the encounter. That's Netty, I know, he thought.
His daughter. So it was. In she bounded. Bright little Netty! Gay little
Netty! A dear and sweet little creature, to be sure, with a delicate
and pleasant beauty of face and figure, it needed no costly silks to
grace or heighten. There she stood. Not a word from her merry lips,
but a smile which stole over all the solitary grimness of the library,
and made everything better, and brighter, and fairer, in a minute. It
floated down into the cavernous humor of Dr. Renton, and the gloom began
to lighten directly,--though he would not own it, nor relax a single
feature. But the wan ghost in the corner lifted its head to look at
her, and slowly brightened as to something worthy a spirit's love, and
a dim phantom's smiles. Now then, Dr. Renton! the lines are drawn, and
the foe is coming. Be martial, sir, as when you stand in the ranks of
the Cadets on training-days! Steady, and stand the charge! So he did.
He kept an inflexible front as she glided toward him, softly, slowly,
with her bright eyes smiling into his, and doing dreadful execution.
Then she put her white arms around his neck, laid her dear, fair head
on his breast, and peered up archly into his stern visage. Spite of
himself, he could not keep the fixed lines on his face from breaking
confusedly into a faint smile. Somehow or other, his hands came from
behind him, and rested on her head. There! That's all. Dr. Renton
surrendered at discretion! One of the solid men of Boston was taken
after a desperate struggle,--internal, of course,--for he kissed her,
and said, "Dear little Netty!" and so she was.

The phantom watched her with a smile, and wavered and brightened as
if about to glide to her; but it grew still, and remained.

"Pa in the sulks to-night?" she asked, in the most winning, playful,