"Well, I'm thankful you had him along," said Harry. "The Lord only knows what you two girls would have done alone in a city like New York. You must never do such a thing again, whatever happens, Maria. You might as well run right into a den of wild beasts. Only think of that child going to New York, and coming out on the last train, with that Mann girl; and Wollaston is only a boy, though he's bright and smart. And your cousin has moved, Ida." "I thought she had," said Ida. "And to think of what those children might have got into," said Harry, "in a city like New York, which is broken out all over with plague spots instead of having them in one place! Only think of it, Ida!" Harry's voice was almost sobbing. It seemed as if he fairly appealed to his wife for sympathy, with his consciousness of the dangers through which his child had passed. But Ida only said, "Yes." "And the baby might have fallen into the worst hands," said Harry. "But, thank God, a good woman, although she was coarse enough, got hold of her." "Yes, we can't be thankful enough," Ida said, smoothly, and then Josephine came in with a tray and a silver cup of hot milk for Evelyn. "Is that all the milk Annie heated?" asked Harry. "Yes, sir." "Well, tell Annie to go to the sideboard and get that bottle of port-wine and pour out a glass for Miss Maria; and, Josephine, you had better bring her something to eat with it. You haven't had any supper, have you, child?" Maria shook her head. "I don't want any, thank you, papa," said she. "Is there any cold meat, Josephine, do you know?" Josephine said there was some cold roast beef. "Well, bring Miss Maria a plate, with a slice of bread-and-butter, and some beef." "Have you had any supper yourself, dear?" Ida asked. "I declare I don't know, dear," replied Harry, who looked unutterably worn and tired. "No, I think not. I don't know when I could have got it. No, I know I have not." "Josephine," said Ida, "tell Annie to broil a piece of beefsteak for Mr. Edgham, and make a cup of tea." "Thank you, dear," poor Harry said, gratefully. Then he said to Maria, "Will you wait and have some hot beefsteak and tea with papa, darling?" Maria shook her head. "I think she had better eat the cold beef and bread, and drink the wine, and go at once to bed, if she is to start on that early train to-morrow," Ida said. "Maybe you are right, dear," Harry said. "Hurry with the roast beef and bread and wine for Miss Maria, Josephine, and Annie can see to my supper afterwards." All this time Harry was coaxing the baby to imbibe spoonfuls of the hot milk. It was hard work, for Evelyn was not very hungry. She had been given a good deal of cake and pie from a bakery all day.