"It still requires many finishing touches, I perceive," he said at length. "I fancy he cannot mean to do much more to the women's faces, to my mind they tell all he means them to express— 'Righteousness and Peace have kissed each other.' He told me he had been at work on the drapery—ah, yes, I see! I wonder what your father's artist friends think of his picture. It seems to me good, very good; but, then, I fear my opinion does not go for much. I am sorry to think it will not be exhibited this year. The doctor says your father must not dream of work for many weeks to come, and advises he should live in a milder climate." "But how can he?" Angel questioned, looking distressed. Mr. Bailey was silent for a few minutes. He watched the little girl carefully recover the picture, then he replied— "I want him to give up these lodgings altogether and make his home with me at Haresdown House; I should like you all to come and live with me, for you are the only relations I have in the world. One thing is quite certain, your father must not be allowed to spend the spring in town, and he could not find a milder, more salubrious climate anywhere than at Wreyford. I believe he would soon get well there. Gerald could attend the Grammar School, and you—" "Oh, Uncle Edward!" Angel interrupted excitedly, "do you really mean it? Do you really want us all to come?" "Yes, I do. Haresdown House is a big abode for one man; and I feel, child, that it would be for your father's benefit if he will only agree to my plan. We must manage to break it to him gradually; but he will not be strong enough to consider the matter yet." The first time Angel was allowed to see her father after he had taken a turn for the better, she was shocked at the alteration in his appearance, for he looked terribly ill, his cheeks had fallen in, and there were deep hollows beneath his eyes. He did not seem inclined to talk, but only smiled at her and whispered her name; and it was the same when Gerald went in to see him. But as the days glided on, he grew stronger, and the children were delighted when he began to ask them questions, and take an interest in things generally again. At last, there came a day when he broached the subject of his picture to Angel, and said he would not be able to finish it by the time he had intended it to be completed. "I don't believe I could use a brush, my hand shakes so," he acknowledged ruefully, "and so end all my hopes of success for the present. I trust I shall soon get well, Angel, for we must have been running in debt during my illness." "No, I don't think we have," she answered simply. "Uncle Edward has seen to everything, and he told me yesterday we didn't owe a penny!" The invalid's wan face lit up with a smile, and he drew a deep breath of relief. "I would rather be indebted to Uncle Edward than to any one else in the world," he confessed; "my illness must have been a great expense. I must work hard when I am stronger."