Mr Auberly became suddenly much interested in the fairy, for just as "love begets love," so does interest beget interest. His feelings having been roused, his tongue was loosed, and forthwith he enjoyed a delightful conversation with the intelligent child; not that there was any remarkable change as to the matter of what was spoken, but there was a vast change in the manner of speaking it. Willie also chimed in now and then, and volunteered his opinions in a way that would have called forth a sharp rebuke from his patron half an hour before; but he was permitted to speak, even encouraged, now, for Mr Auberly was being tickled pleasantly; he was having his feelings and affections roused in a way that he had never thought of or tried before; he was gathering golden experiences that he had never stooped to touch before, although the mine had been under his feet all his life, and his path had been strewn with neglected nuggets from the cradle--fortunately not, as yet, to the grave! Ziza's Bible lay on the counterpane close to her wasted little hand. While she was talking of Loo, with deep sympathy beaming out of her eyes and trembling in her tones, Mr Auberly laid his hand inadvertently on it. She observed the action, and said-- "Are you going to read and pray with me, sir?" Mr Auberly was taken very much aback indeed by this question. "Well--no," said he, "that is--if--fact, I have not brought my prayer-book with me; but--but--I will read to you if you wish it." Sympathy was gone now; the fairy felt that, and, not clearly understanding why, wondered at it. She thanked her visitor, however, and shut her eyes, while Mr Auberly opened the Bible and cleared his voice. His confusion was only momentary; still the idea that he could be confused at all by two mere children in such a wretched cellar so nettled the worthy man, that he not only recovered his self-possession, but read a chapter with all the solemn dignity of tone and manner that he would have assumed had he been officiating in Saint Paul's or Westminster Abbey. This was such a successful essay, and overawed his little congregation so terribly, that for a moment he thought of concluding with the benediction; but, being uncertain whether he could go correctly through it, he wisely refrained. Thereafter he rose, and bade the fairy good-night. "Your father does not return till late, I suppose?" he said, while he held her hand. "No; it is morning generally before he gets away. The pantomimes are hurting him, I fear, for he's not so active as he once was, and he says he feels the falls very bad." "Poor man! It's very sad; but I suppose it's the usual way with that class of men. Well, goodnight again." "Good-night, sir!" responded the fairy, with a bright smile, "and thank you very much for your visit. Good-night, Willie."