was placed in her high chair at the head of the table, at first only at
the lunch hour, but later at all meal times before the doctor to look
at. And it was an ever-recurring joy to the lonely man to discover in
the little grave face before him fleeting glimpses of the other face
so tenderly loved and so long vanished. These glimpses were to be
discovered now in the deep blue eyes, deep in colour and in setting, now
in the smile that lit up the dark, irregular features like the sudden
break of sunlight upon the rough landscape, transforming it into
loveliness, now in the knitting of the heavy eyebrows, and in the firm
pressing of the lips in moments of puzzled thought. In all the moods and
tenses of the little maid the doctor looked for and found reminiscences
of her mother.

Through those eight lonely years the little girl had divided with his
profession the doctor's days. Every morning after breakfast he stood to
watch the trim, sturdy, round little figure dance down the steps, step
primly down the walk, turn at the gate to throw a kiss, and then march
away along the street to the corner where another kiss would greet him
before the final vanishing. Every day they met at noon to exchange on
equal terms the experiences of the morning. Every night they closed the
day with dinner and family prayers, the little girl gravely taking her
part in the reading during the last year from her mother's Bible. And so
it came that with the years their friendship grew in depth, in frankness
and in tenderness. The doctor was widely read beyond the literature of
his profession, and every day for a half hour it was his custom to
share with the little girl the treasures of his library. The little maid
repaid him with a passionate love and a quaint mothering care tender and
infinitely comforting to the lonely man.

The forenoon had been hot and trying, and Dr. Brown, having been