wife; for Abby Edgham, with her sallow, faded face, had possessed
something which Ida Slome lacked, and which the man needed, to hold
him. And always in his mind, at this time, was the intention to be
more than kind to his motherless little daughter, not to let her
realize any difference in his feeling for her.

When he came to-night, he looked at the sleeping Mrs. Addix, and at
Maria, taking painful stitches in her dresser cover, at first with a
radiant smile, then with the deepest pity.

"Poor little soul," he said. "You have had a long evening to
yourself, haven't you?"

"I don't mind," replied Maria. She was thinking of the torn
wall-paper, and she did not look her father fully in the eyes.

"Has she been asleep ever since I went?" inquired Harry, in a whisper.

"Yes, sir."

"Poor little girl. Well, it will be livelier by-and-by for you. We'll
have company, and more going on." Harry then went close to Mrs.
Addix, sitting with her head resting on her shoulder, still snoring
with those puffs of heavy breath. "Mrs. Addix," he said.

Mrs. Addix did not stir; she continued to snore.

"Mrs. Addix!" repeated Harry, in a louder tone, but still the
sleeping woman did not stir.