‘Will _you_ be there?’ I asked, presently. ‘Of course, I shall—always! What would be the use of a mother, Charlie, if she didn’t live in the house close to you, always ready to heal your troubles and supply your wants to the utmost of her power?’ ‘Oh! let us go at once!’ I exclaimed, slipping my hand into hers. All dread of my father seemed to have deserted me. The new mother was a guardian angel, under whose protection I felt no fear. She was delighted with my readiness. ‘So we will, Charlie! We need not even wait for your box to be packed. Mrs Murray can send on everything to-morrow. And papa will be anxious until he sees us home again!’ My father anxious about me! That was a new thing to be wondered at. I was too much of a baby still to perceive that his anxiety would be for _her_—not for me! I had not yet been able to grasp the idea that she was his wife. I only regarded her as my new mother. As we passed out of the house, I asked leave to say good-bye to my friend Jemmy. ‘His mother is dead, like mine,’ I said, in explanation. ‘He will be so pleased to hear that I have got a new one.’ ‘Poor boy!’ she sighed; ‘we will ask him to spend the summer holidays with you Charlie. A great happiness like ours should make us anxious to make others happier.’ And when Jemmy came forward on his crutches, and smiled his congratulations on the wonderful piece of news I had to give him, she stooped down and kissed his forehead. Then we passed out of the playground together, I clinging to her hand, and proud already to hear the flattering comments passed upon her appearance by the other boys, and to remember that from that time forward she was to be called _my mother_. * * * * * Lilyfields, as my father’s house was designated, was not more than ten or twelve miles from the school; but we had to make a little railway journey to reach it, and I thought I had never travelled so pleasantly before. My new mother laughed so often and chatted so continuously to me, that I caught the infection of her mirthful loquacity, and, long before we got home, had revealed so much of my past life and feelings, that more than once I brought a shadow over her sunny face, and closed her smiling lips with a sigh. But as we left the train and commenced to walk towards Lilyfields, my old fears showed symptoms of returning, and my sudden silence, with the tightening clasp of my hand, did not pass unobserved by my companion. ‘What is the matter, Charlie? Of what are you afraid?’ ‘Won’t papa be angry with me for coming back before the holidays begin?’ I whispered. Her clear laugh rang over the peaceful meadows we were traversing. ‘If he is angry with any one, he must be so with me, as I fetched you home Charlie.’ ‘And you are not afraid of him?’