"Well, child," she said, "I am warm through, and my throat is much better, and I am sure you look all the better for a bit of heat and a bit of good food. I'll come again to see you presently, and I'll bring some new-laid eggs with me, and better butter than that stuff we have just eaten; it wasn't fit for a Christian's palate. Good-bye, child. You'll see more of me in the future." PART ONE, CHAPTER FOUR. MISS GRACE DONNITHORNE. When father came in that evening I was quite lively, but he did not specially notice it. I hoped he would. I felt wonderfully excited about Miss Grace Donnithorne. The boys, of course, were also in the room, but they were generally in a subdued state and disinclined to make a noise when father was present. Hannah came up with the dinner. She dumped down the tray on the sideboard, and put the appetising rump-steak in front of father. It was rump-steak with onions, and there were fried potatoes, and there was a good deal of juice coming out of the steak, and oh, such a savoury smell! Alex began to sniff, and Charley looked with keen interest and watering eyes at the good food. "There," said Hannah, placing a mutton bone in front of Alex; "you get on with that. There's plenty of good meat if you turn it round and cut from the back part. It's good and wholesome, and fit for young people. The steak is for the Professor. I've got some roast potatoes; thought you'd like them." The roast potatoes were a sop in the pan; but oh, how we did long for a piece of the steak! That was the worst about father; he really was a most kindly man, but he was generally, when not absorbed in lecturing-- on which occasions, I was told, he was most animated and lively and all there--in a sort of dream. He ate his steak now without in the least perceiving that his children were dining off cold mutton. Had he once noticed it, he would have taken the mutton bone for himself and given us the steak. I heard Alex mutter, "It's rather too bad, and he certainly won't finish it!" But I sat down close to Alex, and whispered, "Alex, for shame! You know how he wants it; he isn't at all strong." Then Alex's grumbles subsided, and he ate his own dinner with boyish appetite. After the brief and very simple meal had come to an end the boys left the room, and the Professor, as we often called him, stood with his back to the fire. Now was my opportunity. "Father," I said, "I had a visitor this afternoon." "Eh? What's that. Dumps?" "Father, I wish you wouldn't call me Dumps." "Don't fret me, Rachel; what does it matter what I call you? The thing is that I address the person who is known to me as my daughter. What does it matter whether I speak of her as Dumps, or Stumps, or Rachel, or Annie, or any other title? What's in a name?"