To say that I looked at Toddie reprovingly is to express my feelings in the most inadequate language, but of language in which to express my feelings to Toddie, I could find absolutely none. Within two or three short moments I had discovered how very anxious I really was to merit Miss Mayton’s regard, and how very different was the regard I wanted from that which I had previously hoped might be accorded me. It seemed too ridiculous to be true that I, who had for years had dozens of charming lady acquaintances, and yet had always maintained my common sense and self-control; I, who had always considered it unmanly for a man to specially interest himself in _any_ lady until he had an income of five thousand a year; I, who had skilfully, and many times, argued that life attachments, or attempts thereat, which were made without a careful preliminary study of the mental characteristics of the partner desired, were the most unpardonable folly,—_I_ had transgressed every one of my own rules, and, as if to mock me for any pretended wisdom and care, my weakness was made known to me by a three-year-old marplot and a hideous rag doll! That merciful and ennobling dispensation by which Providence enables us to temper the severity of our own sufferings by alleviating those of others, came soon to my rescue. Under my stern glance, Toddie gradually lost interest in his doll and its cradle, and began to thrust forth and outward his piteous lower lip, and to weep copiously. “Dee Lord not make me sho bad,” he cried through his tears. I doubt his having had any very clear idea of what he was saying, or whom he was addressing; but had the publican of whose prayer Toddie made so fair a paraphrase worn such a face when he offered his famous petition, it could not have been denied for a moment. Toddie even retired to a corner, and hid his face in self-imposed penance. “Never mind, Toddie,” said I sadly; “you didn’t mean to do it, I know.” “I wantsh to love you,” sobbed Toddie. “Well, come here, you poor little fellow,” said I, opening my arms, and wondering whether ’twas not after contemplation of some such sinner that good Bishop Tegner wrote:— “Depths of love are atonement’s depths, for love is atonement.” Toddie came to my arms, shed tears freely upon my shirt-front, and finally, after heaving a very long sigh, remarked:— “Wantsh _you_ to love _me_.”