different things — not disagreeably; taking a kind of bird's-
eye view of things, as one does sometimes."

"I don't believe you ever take other than a bird's-eye view of
anything," said her uncle. "But what were you viewing just
then, my little Saxon?"

"I was thinking of them at home," said Fleda, smiling,
thoughtfully; "and I somehow had perched myself on a point of
observation, and was taking one of those wider views which are
always rather sobering."

"Views of what?"

"Of life, Sir."

"As how?" said the doctor.

"How near the end is to the beginning, and how short the space
between, and how little the ups and downs of it will matter if
we take the right road and get home."

"Pshaw!" said the doctor.

But Fleda knew him too well to take his interjection otherwise
than most kindly. And, indeed, though he whirled round and ate
his toast at the fire discontentedly, his look came back to
her after a little, with even more than its usual gentle
appreciation.