There would have been a little hesitation, but at the voice Lena looked up and called “Lily, Lily!” Bernard lifted his small daughter down, Elizabeth was not sorry to be led away for the present, and when, after a turn in the rose garden, she came back, the two children were sitting with arms round one another, holding a conversation with Ben, the cockatoo, and making him dance on one of the benches of the boat, under Angela’s supervision, lest he should end by dancing overboard. The rich fair hair, shining dark blue eyes, and plump glowing cheeks of Lily were a contrast to the wan wasted colouring of her little cousin; but Lena was more herself now than when just awake, and let Lily lead her up and introduce her, as it might be called, to Cousin Bessie as Lily called her, a less formidable sound than “Aunt Elizabeth.” They were both kissed, and she endured it. Angela was, as her brothers and sisters said, “very good,” and scrupulously abstained from absorbing the child all the evening, letting Elizabeth show her pictures and tell her stories, to which, by Lily’s example, she listened quietly enough and with interest. When the two children went off, hand in hand, to their beds, Elizabeth said, “Really, Magdalen is improved. If you leave Lily with her, Phyllis, I think we should get on beautifully. The bracing air will do wonders for them both.” “Thank you,” said poor Phyllis forbearingly; “we have not made our plans about Lily yet.” But Elizabeth thought out a beautiful scheme of discipline and study in the long light hours of the morning, and began to feel herself drawn towards her delicate little niece, feeling sure that the little thing would soon be Susan’s darling, if Susan could be brought to endure the cockatoo walking loose about the house. Early in the day Professor May appeared, and was hailed as an old friend by all the Underwoods. He rejoiced to see Clement looking well and active; and “as to this fellow,” he said, looking at Bernard, “it shows what development will do.” “Not quite the young Bear of Stoneborough,” said Clement, leaning affectionately on his broad shoulder; “our skittish pair are grown very sober-minded. But you have not told us of your father.” “My father is very well. He walks down every day to sit with my wife, and visits a selection of his old patients, who are getting few enough now. This is not my patient, I suppose?” “Unless you are ready to prescribe only laughing and good Jersey cows’ milk,” said Bernard, pulling the long silky brown hair. “Where’s mother, little one?” “Mother sent me to say Aunt Angel is ready, if Dr. May will come up to Aunt Cherry’s room. Lena is frightened, and they did not like to leave her.”