"It is not my intention to leave you with Miss Tompkins, my dear. I am thinking of sending you to your father's relations, if they will have you, and I expect they will. You know you've an uncle and aunt living at W—, near Oxford, and they have children about your age, a girl and a boy. Wouldn't you like to know them? I've written to your uncle to-night. You remember him, don't you? He came to your father's funeral, and once afterwards, he called to see us, when he was in town on business." "Yes," replied Mavis, dolefully. She had a somewhat hazy remembrance of a tall, stout man, with stooping shoulders, who had presented her with a big box of chocolates. She had the box still, it was one of her few treasures. "He is a miller at W—, and is a very prosperous man, I believe. I have written to ask him to take you into his home, and I am sure he will. Come, my dear, don't cry. We ought to be very, very thankful that I have succeeded in obtaining such a good post." In spite of her brave words, there were tears in Mrs. Grey's own eyes as she spoke. Her little daughter leaned against her knees and wept heart-brokenly, and she smoothed her tangled brown locks with a gentle, caressing hand. Mavis knew by experience, that when her mother had quite made up her mind that a certain course of action was right, she would certainly pursue it. So by-and-by, she dried her eyes and tried to compose herself, but her heart was dreadfully sore. Mrs. Grey went on to explain that Miss Dawson was very young—only seventeen—and that the doctors hoped the long voyage and a few months' sojourn in Australia might do much for her health. "I am very, very sorry for her, for she is terribly delicate," she said, pityingly. "She is motherless, too, poor girl! Her father has business engagements to keep him in England, or he would make the trip to Australia with her, himself. She will be completely in my charge, so mine will be a responsible position. It is very sad to see one so young, so weak and ill. Don't you feel sorry for her, Mavis?" "Yes, of course I do," Mavis answered. Then she added, with a touch of jealousy in her tone, "She will have you all to herself; but you won't forget your own little girl, will you?" "Do you think that is likely?" Mrs. Grey asked, seriously. "No, mother, indeed I don't," Mavis replied, feeling rather ashamed of herself; "but it is so very hard that we should be parted."