did. What a big little woman I thought myself, to be sure! I thought

all the world must know me as I walked along, and I cocked up my head, I can tell you. How we do puff ourselves out, we frogs! That's what I asked you that night, Master Chris, the name of that thing in the fable that puffed itself out and came to grief; and I remember saying that of all the conceited creatures in this topsy-turvy world actors and actresses are the worst; though I think I know some who are almost as bad. But to come back about Gus, my dear. You've no cause to be jealous of him; he's engaged, my dear--engaged! Here's her picture--a pretty little thing, isn't she? But Gus never would make love to a girl unless she was pretty, and he was always a bit of a flirt. He'll have to settle down now; his ogling days are over; this little bit of a thing has got hold of him as tight as a fish. They'll all be getting married directly--all of them except me and Turk perhaps--and he's the one I want to see married most of all. There's Florry there--what are you listening to, Florry?--you should see how the men are beginning to stare at her! and that sets a girl thinking, you know. As for Chris, he must be blind; I only know if I was a young man--But there! I'll say no more, or you'll be calling me as bad a gossip as Mrs. Simpson. Perhaps some one else would like to say a word or two?'

And here Josey paused to take breath. I knew that she had only chattered on in this way for the purpose of giving me time to recover myself upon entering the kitchen; for as I looked around upon the old familiar walls, a flood of tender reminiscences had rushed upon my mind, and my eyes had filled with tears. Whether by design or accident, the kitchen presented exactly the same appearance as on the first night I had seen it. The old theatrical dresses and properties were on the walls; the dummy man in chain armour that had once played a famous part in a famous drama was lurking in a corner; the curtain of patchwork was hung on its line, dividing the stage from the auditorium; and Matty and Rosy and Nelly and Sophy were busy at work on stage dresses and adornments. My mother was delighted with all she saw, and caressed the children, who all doted on her, and pulled out of her pocket a packet of sweetmeats for them. Her brain could never have been idle; when she went on the simplest errand, she must have thought of it beforehand, and her affectionate thoughtful nature invariably made that errand pleasant to some one. Her wonderful thoughtfulness, wedded as it was to affection and unselfishness, was one of her greatest charms; it strewed her course through life with flowers which sprang up in barren places, and gladdened many a sad heart. I know that, between ourselves, every wish I formed was anticipated before I expressed it, and while the words explaining it were on my lips, she was scheming how it could be gratified. This charming and most beautiful quality--which in a home breeds love, and keeps it always sweet and fresh--was exhibited even on such an occasion as our present visit to Josey, in the pleasantest of ways. As my mother chatted with Josey, she handed one child the thread, another the wax, another something which the little one's eyes were seeking for; and all these things were done in the most natural manner, and without in the least disturbing her conversation with Josey. Trivial as these matters are, they are deserving of mention; happy must be that home which has such a spirit moving in its midst.

'The youngsters are all at work, I see,' I said to Josey, when I had mastered my agitation; 'to fill up the time, I suppose.'

'Not a bit of it, Master Chris,' replied Josey. 'Sophy and Rosy and Matty have an engagement to play in a new burlesque; they play the Three Graces--very little ones they will be, but it's a burlesque, you know--and very well they'll look. Now then, up with you, and go through the first scene.'

The children jumped from their chairs, and went through the scene, speaking with pretty emphasis the few words intrusted to them, and dancing with infinite grace. It was amusing to witness the gravity with which they tucked up their dresses so as to show their petticoats, which looked more like ballet clothes than their brown frocks. We all applauded heartily.

'Bravo! bravo!' cried Turk, who had entered during the scene. 'If the author isn't satisfied with that performance, then nothing will satisfy him. But nothing less than a hundred nights' run ever does satisfy an author--How are you, mother? How do you do, Chris, my boy? Well, Josey, old girl! No, nothing less than that ever does satisfy an author, who invariably says, when a piece is a failure, that the actors are muffs and don't know their business. But they get as good as they give; let actors alone for reckoning up an author. They know how much of the credit belongs to them, and how much to him.'

Josey laughed merrily at this.

'It almost always all belongs to the actor, Turk,' she said.

'Of course it does, and very properly too. The audience say, when an actor makes a point, What a clever fellow the author is! They should read the stuff: they'd form a different opinion. Josey, do you know it is nearly ten o'clock?'

A look of some meaning passed between Turk and Josey, and Josey desired the children to put away their work. Presently they all went to bed, my mother going with them at their express desire. Only Turk, Josey, and I were now in the kitchen. We talked on various subjects, not in the most natural way, as it appeared to me; I said little, not being inclined for conversation. Turk was somewhat thoughtful, and more than usually observant of me, but Josey was in the wildest of spirits, and laughed without apparent cause, and said the most absurd things.

'I knew a lady,' she said, 'who played a character-part in a successful piece, which had an immense run; it was played for more than two hundred nights. She hadn't a great deal to say, but every time she spoke she either commenced or ended with "Bless my soul!" Now, if you will believe me, her "Bless my soul!" made the piece. Every time she said it the audience roared with laughter, and you could hear them as they went away from the theatre of a night saying, "Bless my soul!" to one another, and laughing, as if there was really something wonderfully comic in the words. It was a great misfortune to her, for her mind so ran upon it, that morning, noon, and night she was continually saying nothing but "Bless my soul!" until her friends got so wearied of it that they wished she hadn't a soul to bless. I slept with her one night, and all through her sleep she was talking to herself, and blessing her soul. It was the ruin of her as an actress; for always afterwards the people in the theatre called out, "Hallo! here conies Bless-my-soul!" and of course that spoilt the effect of a good many of her characters.'

'But that's not as bad,' said Turk, 'as me when I played The Thug for seven months. Do you remember, Josey?'

'Do I remember it?' Josey repeated, with a look of comic horror. 'Haven't I cause to remember it? You see, Chris, he had to strangle people in the piece. How many every night, Turk?'

'Seventeen,' he replied in a tone of great satisfaction.

'He had to strangle seventeen people every night for seven months, my dear. Well, that made an impression upon him, and I daresay he began to look upon himself as a lawful strangler. I must say, that when he strangled the people on the stage, he did it in such a manner that no one could help believing that he enjoyed it.'

'It was realistic acting, Josey,' said Turk complacently; 'that's what it was.'

'It was a little too realistic for me,' observed Josey. 'For what do you think he did one night, Chris, my dear? He was living in this house at the time, and we all went to bed quite comfortably, after a heavy supper. Turk had had a great triumph that night, and the audience were so delighted with the way in which he strangled his victims, that they called him before the curtain more than once. We talked of it a great deal after supper. Well, in the middle of the night I woke up with a curious sensation upon me. Something seemed to be crawling towards me very stealthily. I listened in a terrible fright, and sure enough I heard something crawling in the room. I lit a candle quickly, you may be sure; and there I saw Turk in his nightshirt, as I'm a living woman, creeping about on the floor, as he was in the habit every night of creeping about on the stage in the character of The Thug. He was fast asleep, my dear. "Turk! Turk!" I cried, and I was about to jump out of bed and give him a good shaking, when he shouted, "Ha! ha! I have you! Die! die!" and he ran up to me. My dear, if I hadn't jumped out on the other side of the bed, and poured a jug of cold water down his back, I believe he would have strangled me. It woke him up, and a nice state he was in. Every night after that, until the run of the piece was over, and he was playing other characters, I locked him in his bedroom, and took away the key. I wasn't going to have the children strangled in their sleep, and Turk hanged for it. I used to go to the door of his room in the dead of night, and more than once I heard him crawling about on the floor, strangling imaginary people, with his "Ha! ha! Die! die!" He never knew anything of it, my dear, and used to come down to breakfast looking as innocent as a lamb.'

Turk seemed to take pride in this narration.

'It shows that I was in earnest,' he said. 'There's ten o'clock striking.'

We listened in silence, and did not speak until the last echo had quite died away. Then I raised my head and saw that Josey was looking at me very earnestly.

'Chris, my dear,' she said, somewhat nervously, 'you have good cause to remember the first night you came into this house.'

'Indeed I have, Josey,' I replied.

'I'm going to give you better cause to remember to-night. I'm a little witch, you know.' She hobbled about the kitchen, and, after going through some absurd pantomime, came and stood close behind me. I should have been inclined to laugh, but that Turk's serious face made me serious. 'Now, then,' she continued, placing her arms round my neck, and her hands upon my eyes, 'ever since I played that witch, I've had the idea that I could do magic things if I tried. I'm going to try now; shut your eyes, and wish.' She placed her lips close to my ear, and I thought she was about to whisper something, but she kissed me instead. I humoured her, and did not make an effort to free myself from her embrace. We must have remained in this position for fully two minutes, during which time I heard the door open and shut. When Josey removed her hands, I saw my mother sitting on one side, and uncle Bryan on the other. I held out my hand gladly to him; Josey clapped hers in delight.

'It was a whim of this good little woman's,' said uncle Bryan, looking at Josey affectionately. 'And we were compelled to let her have her way. We owe her too much to refuse her anything.'

'But you don't look as surprised as I thought you would, Master Chris,' exclaimed Josey, in a tone of assumed disappointment.

'Well, the truth is, Josey,' I said, 'I saw uncle Bryan yesterday; so it is not so much of a surprise as you thought it would be.'

'Oh, indeed!' she said.

'And then again,' I said, taking her hand, 'do you think that anything kind from you can surprise me? No, indeed, Josey; we all have cause to know the goodness of your heart. I couldn't love a sister better than I love you.'

'Did anybody ever hear the like of that!' she exclaimed, laughing and crying at one time. 'As if a single girl wanted to be loved like a sister! Never mind, Chris, my dear, don't mind what I say; you know what I mean. But, as the first act of my piece is not as successful as I thought it would be, I shall have nothing to do with the second. Oh, yes, it's in two acts, Chris!'

Before I could speak, uncle Bryan took up her words.

'It is another of this good little woman's whims, my dear boy,' he said, that we should all sleep in the old shop to-night, as we used to do, your mother, you, and I. It will only be for this one night, Chris, notwithstanding Josey's persuasion, for if all goes well, I shall regularly make over the business to her; and to-morrow morning she will take possession again.'

'You have decided to come and live with us,' I said; 'that is good, isn't it, mother?'

'We shall have time to talk over that to-night, my dear boy.'

'Then the best thing you can do,' said Josey briskly, 'is to run away at once and settle it. I sha'n't be able to close my eyes until I know how it is all settled. There! Away with you!' And she fairly bustled us out of the house.

'Let us walk slowly,' said uncle Bryan, 'it is a fine night, and I have something to say to you. Nay, Emma, don't walk away; I should like you to hear me. Chris, the words you addressed to me the last night we were together in the old shop have never left my mind. Do not interrupt me, my dear boy--I think I know what you wish to say. You would say that you spoke too strongly, and that you painted all that had passed in colours too vivid; let that be as it may, you spoke the truth. I recognised it then; I recognise and acknowledge it now. But the pain which I suffered--and I did suffer most keenly, my dear boy--was not so much for myself as for your dear mother, for I saw that every word you spoke wounded her tender heart. Had you seen this, you would have held your tongue, and I should have been spared a just punishment. Chris, I did not ask you yesterday, although it was in my mind to do so; I ask you now: have you forgiven me?'

I was humbled by the humbleness of his tone and manner. It might have been a child who was pleading to me. I found it impossible to speak, but I threw my arms round his neck, and kissed him.

'That is well, that is well,' he said; 'I have but one wish now--to repair the wrong I have done. You said that I had driven all hope of happiness from your heart; what kind of happiness should I experience if I could restore what I have robbed you of! Repentance is good; atonement is better!'

I knew by his agitated tone how strong was his wish, and I pressed his hand. Silence was best at such a time.

Shortly afterwards we arrived at the shop, and I saw a light gleaming through the shutters. To my surprise, uncle Bryan, instead of unlocking the door, knocked at it, and I found myself wondering who was inside; all the members of Josey West's family were at home in their old house. As uncle Bryan knocked, my mother grasped my hand tightly; I looked into her face, and saw in it an expression of love, so sweet and pure, and yet withal so wistful and yearning, that a wild unreasoning hope entered my heart. I could not have defined it, but it seemed to me that something good was about to occur. The door was opened from within, and uncle Bryan stood for a moment on the threshold. Before I could follow him my mother pulled my face down to hers, and kissed me more than once with great tenderness.

'You are crying, mother,' I said; and then I thought that joy on entering the old shop, and sleeping again beneath its roof, had caused her tears.

'God bless you, my darling!' she sobbed; 'God bless you!'

We entered the shop; uncle Bryan was standing there alone; a light was in the little parlour.

'Go in, Chris,' he said.

'I went in, and there sat Jessie, working at the table. She looked towards me, with a smile that was tender and arch upon her lips. I passed my hands across my eyes, scarcely believing the evidence of my senses.

'It is true, Chris,' she said, rising; 'are you not glad to see me?'

I looked round for uncle Bryan and my mother; they were not in the room, and the door was closed behind me. Then I understood it all.

'Have you come back for good, Jessie?' I asked.

'I can't hear you,' she replied, 'you are so far away!'

I stepped close to her side, and my arm stole round her waist; she sighed happily.

'Have I come back for good?' she repeated. 'That is for you to decide, Chris.'

'You are in earnest with me, Jessie?'

She smiled. 'I saw you yesterday,' she said.

'Where?'

'When you came to see your uncle Bryan; I have been living in the same house, on the first floor, Chris, where the finest flowers are. Do you begin to understand?'

'Tell me more, Jessie. Did mother know you were living there?'

'Yes, and Josey West, and Turk also. Nearly all that money Turk borrowed of you was for me to pay what Mr. Rackstraw said I owed him. Would you have lent it to him if you had known?'

'You must answer that question for me, Jessie,' I said, still uncertain of the happiness that was in store for me.

We were standing by the mantelshelf, on which lay a little packet in brown paper. Jessie took it in her hand.

'Mother told me to give you this, Chris. Stay, though; what is that round your neck?'

'The ribbon you gave me, Jessie.'

'And the locket, where is that?'

'It is here, Jessie.' I showed it to her; the earnest look that was struggling to her eyes came into them fully.

'You did not cast me quite away, then? Have you always worn it, Chris?'

'Always, Jessie.'

'I am glad, I am glad,' she murmured, and presently said, 'Here is your packet, Chris.'

I opened it, and found the watch and the ivory brooch I had intended to give Jessie on her birthday.

'Do you know what is in this packet, Jessie?'

'No, Chris.'

I took the trinkets out of the paper:

'I bought them as a birthday present for you, Jessie. Look at what is engraved inside the watch, and if you can accept it, you will make me very happy.'

She opened the case and read: 'From Chris to Jessie, on her eighteenth birthday. With undying love.' Her eyes were fixed upon the inscription for a much longer time than was necessary for the reading and understanding of the words. When she raised them, tears were glistening in them.

'Will you fasten it for me, Chris?' she said, in a low soft tone.

With an ineffable feeling of happiness I placed the slender chain about her neck, and while my arms were round her, she raised her face to mine, and I kissed her.

A few minutes later, while we were still alone, Jessie said,

'You know why I left home on my birthday, Chris?'

'I know all, Jessie.'

'And yet not quite all, I think. I shall have no secrets from you, Chris, not one. I believe I should have left soon afterwards, even if it had not been for my mother's letter, and for the discovery that uncle Bryan was my father.'

'For what reason, Jessie?'

'You do not suspect, then?'

'I have a dim suspicion, dear, but I would prefer you to tell me.'

'Chris,' she said, very seriously, 'you loved me too much.'

'That could not be, Jessie.'

'It could and can be. In your love for me you forgot some one else, a thousand million times better than I am, Chris.'

'My mother?'

'Your mother. I reproached myself every day and every night for being the cause of it. I was afraid that your attachment to that dearest angel on earth was growing weaker and weaker, and I knew that I was the cause of it. I saw the pain, the unutterable pain, my dear, that your neglect of your mother was causing her tender heart, and I was continually striving to discover in what way you could be 'brought to learn how much more pure and beautiful and sacred her love was than mine. If things had gone on in the same way, I should have run away as it was, Chris, so that you might have been forced to seek for comfort in the shelter of her love. Do you understand me, my dear? Your love for me made you colour-blind.'

How much dearer this confession made Jessie to me I need not describe.

'I see things in a better light now, my darling,' I said humbly; 'I am not colour-blind now.'

Uncle Bryan and my mother would not have disturbed us all the night if we had not called to them to come in and share our happiness.

Those who understand the strength and purity of love can understand by what links of tender feeling we were henceforward bound to one another--sacred links which death itself will be powerless to sever.

Jessie sat on a stool at her father's feet; my mother and I sat close to them, my hand on Jessie's neck, clasped in one of hers.

It must have been two o'clock in the morning, and we were still talking, unconscious of the hour, when a great thumping was heard at the street-door. I jumped to my feet, and opened the door, and Josey West ran in.

'I couldn't help it, my dears,' she cried; 'I know I have no business here, but I should have done something desperate if I hadn't run round to see how you were all getting on. I went to bed, but as I'm a living woman I couldn't sleep a wink; so I got out of bed and dressed myself, and thought, I'll just see if there's a light in the shop. And when I came and saw the light, how could I help knocking? Well, Chris, how do you like the second act? Better than the first? I do believe, as the speechmakers say, this is the happiest day of my life.'

And the queer good little woman fell to crying and kissing us.

I am afraid you would scarcely believe me if I were to tell you at what time we went to bed that morning.