day. Now, when he comes, do let me send him in to look at you.'

go

'No, thank you, I don't believe in doctors; besides, I shall be all right to-morrow.' 'Well, I shall come and see, and if you are not, I shall bring him in myself. I must back now, dear, because I promised mamma not to stay long, and in the meantime do not terrify yourself with melodrama. It is quite out of your line, which is that of a charming little fairy in an extravaganza. God bless you, my darling!'

'If you ask Him, perhaps He may,' was the unexpected reply. 'Do you ever pray for me, Henny?'

I

'Pray for you, why of course I do, just as pray for mamma and for dear little Stevie. Why do you ask such a question?'

'I don't know, I'm sure,' said Sophy, lightly, and as if repenting of her late access of gravity. 'I suppose it was that story of my guardian's about his bedmaker that put it

into my mind; she told him the other day that she always prayed for him on account of his kindness to her. "That's very good of you, Mrs. Baldwin," he said. "Lor bless you, sir! not at all," she answered; "it aint a mossel o' trouble to put your name in along with the rest, while I'm about it.""

'The Canon is really too bad, Sophy,' exclaimed Henny, unable to repress a smile. 'I don't think he has any idea how he shocks people sometimes. And yet he is such a kind, good man; he always endeavours to do the very best for everybody. I am sure you must feel that even when you are not quite at ease with him.'

'I feel it more then than at any other time,' said Sophy, gently.

The two girls embraced one another affectionately. Henny thought she had never seen her friend so dutifully inclined and reasonable. If she did have her little troubles they would be soon over, and if they involved giving Mr.

Perry his congé, it would be a matter of sincere congratulation. They were not over yet, however, or had still left regrets behind them; for as Henny let herself out of the front door of the Laurels' as was her custom, she once more heard the plaintive notes of Sophy's piano, and pictured to herself that woful little face as she had seen it, singing

And sorrow with her tightened breast,

Comes for a tear.

207

CHAPTER XII.

A TURN FOR BUSINESS.

'WELL, Adair, how are you this morning? None the worse, I hope, for our little symposium of yesterday—though, by-the-bye, you left us early, like a true knight, to be the ladies' escort.'

It was the Canon who was speaking, though without paying much attention to the person addressed. Adair had looked in, after lecture, as usual, to have a word with him about the Concordance, but found him otherwise engaged.

A large book, with clasp and key, was laying open before him on the desk; and the Canon, in his dressing-gown, with pen in

hand and knitted brow, was conning its con

tents.

'You find me at very uncongenial work, my lad,' he went on, 'poring over debts and credits. The sight of this ledger has brought those lines of Keats into my head :

Why were they proud?

Because red-lined accounts are richer than the songs of Grecian years?

They haunt these "brought forwards " like a ghost, and I can't get them out of it; and even at my best I am but a sorry accountant.' 'Can I help you in any way?'

'You may try, if you like, while I put my coat on. The fact is, the money is not mine, or I should not trouble about a deficit of twenty pounds, extending over Heaven knows how long. It's a mortgage of my ward's, at five per cent., and I can't make the income from it what it should be. One can't rob the orphan, you see—or, at least, I can't; SO I suppose I shall have to make the loss