softly upon the massive silver service and damask cloth;--and with all
these creature comforts around him, it is not strange that he forgot
the letter and the tress of hair which so lately had blackened on the
coals. The moment was propitious, and by the time he had finished his
second cup, Mrs. Peters said, "I have something to propose."

Leaning back in his chair, he looked inquiringly at her, and she
continued: "You remember Mrs. Leyton, the poor woman who had seen
better days, and lived in East Granby?"

"Yes."

"You know she has been sick, and you gave me leave to carry her any
thing I chose?"

"Yes."

"Well, she's dead, poor thing, and what is worse, she hain't no
connection, nor never had, and her little daughter Rosamond hain't a
place to lay her head."

"Let her come and sleep with you, then," said Mr. Browning, rattling
his spoon upon the edge of his cup.

"Yes, and what'll she do days?" continued Mrs. Peters. "She can't run
the streets, that's so; now, I don't believe no great in children, and
you certainly don't b'lieve in 'em at all, nor your poor uncle before
you; but Rosamond ain't a child; she's _thirteen_--most a woman--and
if you don't mind the expense, I shan't mind the trouble, and she can
live here till she finds a place. Her mother, you know, took up