"I am afraid Flurry has had a dull week of it," he said, taking a
seat beside us, and lifting the little creature to his knee. How
pretty Flurry looked in her dainty white frock, all embroidery and
lace, with knots of black ribbons against her dimpled shoulders, and
her hair flowing round her like a golden veil! Such a little fairy
queen she looked!

"Father has been telling me stories," she observed, confidently;
"they were very pretty ones, but I think I like Juliet best. And, oh!
Esther, Flossy has broken Clementina's arm--that is your favorite
doll, you know."

"Has Miss Cameron a doll, too?" asked Mr. Lucas, and I thought he
looked a little quizzical.

"I always call it Esther's," returned Flurry, seriously. "She is
quite fond of it, and nurses it sometimes at lessons."

But I could bear no more. Mrs. Smedley was listening, I was sure,
and it did sound so silly and babyish, and yet I only did it to
please Flurry.

"I am afraid you think me very childish," I stammered, for I
remembered that game of battledore and shuttlecock, and how excited I
had been when I had achieved two hundred. But as I commenced my
little speech, with burning cheeks and a lip that would quiver with
nervousness, he quietly stopped me.

"I think nothing to your discredit, Miss Cameron. I am too grateful