"Sweet dreams to you, my boy! And come up to-morrow after school. I shall go down to see Fred in the afternoon, and I can tell you more about him then." She went into the house, stopping a moment in the hall to take off her hat and fur-trimmed coat, and then, pushing aside the portière, she entered the bright, pretty room, where her mother sat reading. The light from the fire, blazing on the andirons, flickered over the walls, showing a few fine pictures, some dainty bits of bric-à-brac, and, scattered around and among all, many books. But the prettiest thing in the room was the white-haired woman who sat by the table in a low chair. Her gentle expression and the loving, kindly look in her eyes plainly spoke the word mother; and a real mother she was, not only to her own flock, now all married and gone except this one daughter, but as well to all the young men and maidens, boys and girls, that ever came into her way. Years of delicate health had kept her much at home, but her parlor was the favorite resort of love-lorn maidens, ambitious youths, and small urchins whose broken kite-tails needed prompt attention. Not one of them left her without feeling better for her loving words of advice or consolation; her ears were always open, and to each she could and did give the one thing most needed. Bess pushed a low stool to her side, and sat down on it, with her arm in her mother's lap. "Did you have a pleasant service?" asked the older lady, laying down her book, and giving her daughter's hair a caressing pat. "Very. Mr. Washburn did so well to-night, better than usual, and the music was"-- What it was, Mrs. Carter was never destined to know, for at the sound of her daughter's voice, there was a sudden uprising in the willow basket by the fire, and out jumped a small gray dog, who stretched himself for a moment, and then darted straight at his mistress, and climbed into her lap with sundry growls and yelps of pleasure, wagging, not his tail only, but his whole body, clear to his curly head. Standing up in her lap, he struck out with his forepaws, with an utter disregard for her comfort, and only intent on giving her a cordial welcome. Bess bore it meekly for a time, but a vigorous scratch on her cheek was too much for even her patience, and she pushed the dog gently down with a "That will do, Fuzz"; so he trotted away, and began to search diligently in all the corners of the room. "Did Rob come up with you, as usual?" asked Mrs. Carter, when quiet was once more restored. "Oh, yes; I can always depend on him. What a dear boy he is! Oh, Fuzz! have you found your ball?"