“Poor child, poor child!” he said to himself, as he sat down again and mechanically refilled his pipe, “what a change! She is evidently unhappy, evidently begins to doubt him already. I am afraid he is a rascal; if so, the sooner she knows it the better. What ought I to do?” and he thought deeply for a while. “Yes, that is the only plan; next time he comes I will follow him out and talk to him myself. I will tell him that I can see that he is here too often for Carry's peace of mind. I will ask him as a man to keep away altogether if he is only playing with my child's affections. If he repeats to me what he has told her, I will ask him at any rate to stay away until he is in a position to make her his wife. In the meantime, if I could but get her away from him, the change would strengthen her. Why should I not?” he went on more briskly. “I have two or three hundred pounds at the bank, why should I not put some one in charge of the shop and go away for a month to the seaside? It would be the very thing for her. Yes, yes, if I had Carry all to myself at the seaside, I should soon get her round again. I wish I had thought of it before. I will see about getting some one to-morrow. I will take Carry to a doctor, too; he shall give her some tonics.” Stephen Walker went up to bed and felt quite relieved at the thoughts of his plans for Carry's benefit. He woke up, however, in the night with a vague idea that some one had been kissing and crying over him. As he fairly roused himself and sat up, he fancied he heard his door close softly, but was not sure that it was not imagination. He spoke, and there was no answer, and after a thought of the pleasant surprise he had in store for Carry in the morning, he fell asleep again. In the morning when Stephen Walker came downstairs he found that, contrary to custom, he was the first up. “Poor child,” he said to himself, “she is tired, I dare say, after fainting last night. Well, a good long sleep will do her good,” and so Stephen Walker bustled about, folded the newspapers, and served the customers, sending round Tom Holl before he started on his rounds, to ask his mother to come in for half-an-hour, if she could spare time. Mrs. Holl soon came round, laid and lit the fire, and prepared breakfast. It was by this time half-past nine, and the regular customers were all served. “Now, Mrs. Holl, I will go up and call Carry. How astonished she will be when I tell her its half-past nine, and breakfast's ready!” Stephen Walker was away two or three minutes and then returned, looking white and scared. He sat down in a chair, trembling in every limb. “What is the matter, Mr. Walker?” “I don't know, Mrs. Holl; I have knocked, and knocked, and I cannot make her hear.” “I dare say she's sleeping sound,” Mrs. Holl said; “she's not been looking well of late; shall I go up and wake her?”