"My dear, I really don't know that you have wanted anything to-day." "If you had known, it wouldn't have made a grain or difference. You'd have had too much to see to, going off there." Cragg looked apologetically towards Pattie. "But I could have come alone," Pattie said quietly. "I dare say I should have felt a little shy, because I didn't know you; but that wouldn't have mattered. I could easily have done it. And then Mr. Cragg could have seen to whatever you wanted. I'm so sorry you didn't tell about it." What could Mrs. Cragg say? There was no room for a sharp answer to Pattie's gentleness. "And now you know my wife, I want you to know my little girl," Cragg said, delighted with Pattie's mode of meeting his wife's humour. He began to hope that things would go better than he had ventured to expect. "Little Dot! I should like that so much. I love children." "Here she comes!" exclaimed Cragg. Dot made her appearance after her own fashion: calmly and deliberately, with small head held well up, and light-grey eyes widely-opened. She ignored her own relatives, and advanced straight towards Pattie. Then disappointment fell upon the infant mind. "You'm not that poo-ar lickle girl. You'm drown-up,' she asserted. "What a little darling!" murmured Pattie. "All drown-up," repeated Dot, in profound disappointment. "But I'm not grown up; truly I'm not. I am only a girl still, Dot. Not really grown up. And I love games of play. May I play with you sometimes? And I love reading stories aloud. May I read to you?" "Pay glames and lead to me all day long," declared Dot, without an instant's hesitation. She seized Pattie's hand to draw her away. "But, hallo, Dot,—you're forgetting me. Not a word for-poor old daddy!" protested her father. Dot stopped and gave him a perfunctory kiss, then returned to Pattie. "Pay glames and lead," she repeated. "Tome along." Pattie looked at Mrs. Cragg. "May I go?" she asked. "May I take care of Dot sometimes for you?" Mrs. Cragg assented, not too graciously, and Pattie vanished, led by the fat little hands of Dot. Cragg looked at his wife. "Well?" he said. Mrs. Cragg tossed her head. "Well, I just say the same, Mr. Cragg. I hold that a man's duty is to his own, and not to a pack of strangers. But if she's got to be here, she may as well be useful. If she likes to look after Dot, she's welcome; so long as she don't spoil the child worse than she's spoilt already. You've done enough that way, I hope. There's no managing her when she hears your voice. Not a child in the town is worse spoilt than Dot. And I say it's a shame." "My dear, she's an uncommon good child. Why, Dot never cries." "If she don't cry, she gets her own way a lot too much. You're for ever fussing about her. And if Pattie Dale is going to do the same, she'll be unbearable." "Come, come, my dear. If people want a grievance, they can always make one." "I suppose you mean to say that I'm making a grievance, Mr. Cragg!"