“Oh, yes, I know! I know! But this child has a sweet, fresh voice very pleasant to hear. So I am sure she can read most agreeably. I prefer to try her at any rate—that is, if you have no objection, madam,” added the old man in a tone that warned his sister-in-law she must make no more opposition to his wishes. “Oh, _of course_, I have no objection, sir. I am only too happy if any one in my employment can be of the least service to you, to whom I owe so much. Miss Palmer,” she said, turning to Em., “attend Commodore Bruce to his study.” “Come here on my left, child,” said the old man. Em. obeyed. Then, leaning with his right hand upon his stick and with his left upon Em.’s shoulder, he walked slowly from the dining-room, crossed the hall and passed into his study, which was in fact a handsome library in the southwest corner of the first floor. Supported by Em. and his stick he walked to a long table in the middle of the room and dropped into a large chair beside it. On the table before him lay several newspapers still in their envelopes. He opened them one by one and spread them out. “Now, my child, draw up a chair and seat yourself on my right side—I am as deaf as a post on my left—and begin to read me the news.” “Where shall I begin?” softly inquired Em. when she had seated hemself and unfolded the paper. “Shall I read the speech of——” “Oh, bother, no; don’t; read the news—the murders, suicides, arsons, burglaries, robberies, and so forth; and if you can find any, the opposite sorts of things—the rescues, the reconciliations, the benefactions, and so on! Only don’t read speeches!” replied the commodore. Em. looked all over the paper and found a long sensational account of a great fire and the rescue of a family of children by a brave fireman, who saved them at the imminent hazard of his own life. Next she read of the discovery of a silver mine in the mountains of Virginia, which the old man instantly pronounced to be a hoax. Then of the laying of the corner-stone of a poor children’s hospital. But before she got through with this Em.’s flute-like voice had lulled the old man to rest. Missing his comments at last, she looked up, and found him fast asleep in his chair, and Ronald Bruce standing before her with his eyes full of laughter. “You have been reading to closed ears for about ten minutes, Em.,” said the young man. “Oh! is he asleep? Must I go?” inquired the girl, dropping her paper and preparing to rise. “He is asleep; but you must not upon any account go until he wakes up and dismisses you! Don’t be afraid, however! _I’ll_ stay and keep your company.” Em. looked perplexed, confused and utterly uncertain what to say.