It was Mr Brown again; or, to trace back the links of occasion, it
was the action of 'The Three Fingers' on Mr Brown's frail
constitution. He had come in late, seen 'luvly miss' on the table,
and, with his usual heedlessness of consequence, had chucked her
into the dying embers where--alas that I should have to say it!--
she slowly baked. Little Miss Brown, when the miserable truth was
broken to her, neither wept nor remonstrated; she lay quite still
with a look of utter forsaken wretchedness on her tiny white face,
and moaned very softly for 'luvly miss.'

I came face to face with this state of things and I confess it
staggered me. I knew Miss Brown too well to hope that any pink-
and-white darling from the toy-shop could replace 'luvly miss,' or
that she could be persuaded to admit even a very image of the dear
departed into her affections. Then, too, the doctor said Miss
Brown had but a few days at the most, perhaps only hours, to live;
and comforted she must be.

All at once I had an inspiration, and never in my life have I
welcomed one more. I knelt down by little Miss Brown and told her
the story of the Phoenix. I had not reckoned in vain upon her
imagination: would I "yerely and twooly bwing" her "werry own
luvly miss out of the ashes?" I lied cheerfully and hastened away
to the dust-bin, accompanied by Mrs Brown.

In a few minutes we returned with a pail of ashes, the ashes, of
course, of 'luvly miss' mingled with those of the cruel fire which
had consumed her. I danced solemnly round them, murmured
mysterious words, parted the ashes, and revealed the form of 'luvly
miss.' Love's eyes were not sharp to mark a change, and little