darkness, let alone a woman dressed up as black as the night itself, and the child will be perishing of cold. Whisht, then, my pretty, I will even shout aloud once for her; an she will not answer me, I'll take thee home. Hallo, mistress!" and Jack's stentorian voice rang out manfully above the torrent's roar. But no response came to his listening ear; nothing but the shrieking of the wind in the distant woods, and the creaking of the branches of the old oaks in the lane. So slowly and reluctantly he turned back, and once more crossed the bridge to his own home, where, gently removing the shawls which enwrapped the sleeping child, he found, safe and warm beneath her many coverings, a little golden-haired girl, apparently between two and three years old, who, as he gazed in speechless bewilderment upon her, slowly opened her large dark-grey eyes, fringed with wonderful lashes, and returned his gaze steadfastly. "This is no vagrant's child," said Jack, aloud, with a long, low whistle. "Bless thy little heart, my pretty, thou art as fair as a summer flower!" And he heaved a deep sigh, as he took up the golden curls and twined them lovingly between his fingers. The child's face was delicately fair, only the faintest rose colour tinging the white cheeks, upon which the long eyelashes, many shades darker than the bright hair, swept in striking contrast. The little creature struggled up, as Jack looked down at her, and as she shook herself free from the wrappings which fettered her little limbs, he saw that her white dress was of the finest texture, and trimmed with the most exquisite embroidery. "Poor little maiden," he said, "it is clear thou art never fit to be daughter of Jack the boatman, though it would verily seem that the Lord hath sent thee to take the place of the little one I was wont to hold on my knee more than twenty long years ago. What is your name, my pretty?" "Little Miss Primrose," answered the child promptly, in lisping baby tones, sweet as music to Jack's ear. "Who are you?" "Dad," answered Jack with equal promptitude, thinking that to inspire the baby with the immediate confidence of a daughter was the surest way to make her feel at home in her strange surroundings, and perhaps obviate the inevitable roar for "Mother," which he feared must be impending. But Little Miss Primrose, after repeating to herself, "Dad, dad," in a questioning whisper for a few moments, while her big grey eyes scanned Jack's face with close scrutiny, apparently made up her mind that he spoke the truth and might be trusted, for suddenly scrambling to her feet, she stood on his knee, put her tiny white arms round his neck, and kissed him. Jack gave a half sob, for the soft touch of the baby arms and lips brought back a flood of tender memories, now alas, mingled with deep sadness. He began his paternal duties at once by making her some bread-and-milk, and having fed her with it, put her to bed as comfortably as circumstances would allow.