And then, in answer to her surprised, inquiring look, he proceeded to give her an account of all that had taken place that evening in the library and drawing-room.

“And he hates me, papa,” she said, mournfully, the tears filling her eyes; “why should he feel so?  I have always tried to be kind to him.”

“Yes, I know it,” he replied, “you have often done him kindnesses, and I know of no other cause for his enmity, unless it is that you have sometimes been obliged to bear witness against him.”

“Yes, papa, on several occasions when he was putting all the blame of his naughty deeds on little Walter, or poor Jim.”

“You were perfectly right,” he said, caressing her; “and he will not have another opportunity to vent his spite upon you, as he is to be sent away to boarding-school immediately.”

“Oh, papa!” she exclaimed, “I am so sorry for him, poor fellow!  It must be so dismal to go off alone among strangers.  Dear papa, do ask grandpa to forgive him, just this once; and I don’t believe he will ever behave so again.”

“No, daughter, I shall not do anything of the kind,” he answered, decidedly.  “I think it will be for Arthur’s own good to be sent away, where he will not have his mother to spoil him by indulgence; and besides, I cannot feel that you are safe while he is about the house, and I consider it my first duty to take care of you; therefore, I have insisted upon its that either he must be sent away, or you and I must go and make a home for ourselves somewhere else.”

“Oh, papa, how delightful that would be, to have a home of our own!” she exclaimed eagerly; “will you do it some day?”

“Should you like it so much?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, papa, so very, very much!  When will you do it, papa?”

“I don’t know, darling; some day, if we both live; perhaps when you are old enough to be my housekeeper.”

“But that will be such a long, long time to wait, papa,” she said—­the eager, joyous expression fading away from her face, and the pale, wearied look coming back again.

“Perhaps we will not wait for that, darling; I did not say that we would,” he replied, in a soothing tone, as he passed his hand caressingly over her hair and cheek.

Then he added, a little mischievously, “I think, possibly, I might induce Miss Stevens to keep house for us.  Shall I ask her?”

“Oh, papa, no; that would spoil it all,” she said, with a blush and a look of surprise; “and besides, I’m sure Miss Stevens would feel insulted if anybody should ask her to go out as housekeeper.”

“No, I think not, if I asked her,” laughed Mr. Dinsmore; “but you need not be alarmed; I have no notion of doing it.

“Now, daughter, I shall bathe your ankle with that liniment again, and put you in bed, and you must try to go to sleep.”

“My prayers first, papa, you know,” she replied, making an effort to get down upon the floor.