and if I had a father, I s'pose he'd do that."

"If 'e didn't he'd deserve to get What For," said Jane, decidedly. "If
you was a child in a story book, your pa'd come back and be lookin' for
you everywhere, on Christmas Eve; this Christmas Eve as ever was."

"Oh, would he?" cried Rosemary, a bright colour flaming on her little
soft cheeks.

"Yes; and what's more," went on her hostess, warming to the subject,
"you'd know 'im, the hinstant you clapped heyes on his fice, by
'eaven-sent hinstinct."

"What's 'eaven-sent hinstinct?" demanded Rosemary.

"The feelin' you 'ave in your 'eart for a father, wot's planted there by
Providence," explained Jane. "Now do you hunderstand? Because if you do,
I don't know but you'd better be trottin'. Biby's gorn to sleep, and
seems to be sleepin' light."

"Yes, I think I understand," Rosemary whispered, jumping up from her
footstool. "Goodbye. And thank you very much for letting me come and see
you and the baby."

She tiptoed across the room, her long hair waving and shimmering again,
softly opened, and shut the door behind her, and slowly mounted the
stairs to her own quarters, on the fourth floor.