“Do little boy-angels’ papas an’ mammas go off visitin’, an’ stay so long?”

“I don’t exactly know, Budge, but if they do, the little boy-angels have plenty of other little boy-angels to play with, so they can’t very well be lonesome.”

“Well, I don’t b’leeve they could make me happy, when I wanted to see my papa an’ mamma.  When I haven’t got anybody to play with, then I want papa an’ mamma so bad—­so bad as if I would die if I didn’t see ’em right away.”

I was shaving, and only half-done, but I hastily wiped off my face, dropped into a rocking-chair, took the forlorn little boy into my arms, and kissed him, caressed him, sympathized with him, and devoted myself entirely to the task and pleasure of comforting him.  His sober little face gradually assumed a happier appearance; his lips parted in such lines as no old master ever put upon angel lips; his eyes from being dim and hopeless, grew warm and lustrous and melting.  At last he said:—­

“Uncle Harry, I’m ever so happy now.  An’ can’t Mike go around with me and the goat all the time you’re away riding?  An’ bring us home some candy, an’ marbles—­oh, yes—­an’ a new dog.”

Anxious as I was to hurry off to meet my engagement, I was rather disgusted as I unseated Budge and returned to my razor.  So long as he was lonesome and I was his only hope, words couldn’t express his devotion, but the moment he had, through my efforts, regained his spirits, his only use for me was to ask further favors.  Yet in trying the poor boy, judicially, the evidence was more dangerous to humanity in general than to Budge; it threw a great deal of light upon my own peculiar theological puzzles, and almost convinced me that my duty was to preach a new gospel.

As I drove up to the steps of Mrs. Clarkson’s boarding-house it seemed to me a month had elapsed since last I was there, and this apparent lapse of time was all that prevented my ascribing to miraculous agencies the wonderful and delightful change that Alice’s countenance had undergone in two short days.  Composure, quickness of perception, the ability to guard one’s self, are indications of character which are particularly in place in the countenance of a young lady in society, but when, without losing these, the face takes on the radiance born of love and trust, the effect is indescribably charming—­especially to the eyes of the man who causes the change.  Longer, more out-of-the-way roads between Hillcrest and the Falls I venture to say were never known than I drove over that afternoon, and my happy companion, who in other days I had imagined might one day, by her decision, alertness and force exceed the exploits of Lady Baker or Miss Tinne, never once asked if I was sure we were on the right road.  Only a single cloud came over her brow, and of this I soon learned the cause.

“Harry,” said she, pressing closer to my side, and taking an appealing tone, “do you love me well enough to endure something unpleasant for my sake?”