"Ah, well! that is all ancient history. He has made his bed, poor fellow, and must just lie on it; but I do so hate seeing a man's career marred, especially if he is a good sort, like Ward!" "And you went home with him?" observed his hearer, in the same quiet tone. "Yes; and upon my word it was really a pretty little family picture. There was Ward, looking like a sleepy Adonis with his fair hair rumpled all over his head, and two sweet little girls hanging on each arm, and cooing over him; and that fine boy of his lying on the rug with a picture. I declare my snug bachelor rooms looked quite dull that night." When anything ailed one of the twins, Everard's misery would have touched the most stony heart. When Mollie had measles, he nursed her night and day, and when Waveney and Noel also sickened, he was so worn out that if a kindly friend had not come to his assistance, he would soon have been on a sick-bed. Happily it was holiday time, and there were no schools or classes; Miss Martin was a governess herself, but with the divine self-abnegation of a good-hearted woman she gave up a pleasant visit to a country house to help poor Mr. Ward--women were always doing that sort of thing for Everard Ward. But her little patients gave her a great deal of trouble. Mollie cried and would not take her medicine from anyone but father, and Waveney was pettish; but Noel was the worst of all. Miss Martin was plain-featured, and wore spectacles, and Noel, who inherited his father's love of beauty, objected to her strongly. "Go away," he said, fretfully; "we don't want no frights in goggles;" and he began to roar so lustily that Everard was roused from his sleep and came, pale and weary and dishevelled, to expostulate with his son and heir. But Noel, who was feverish and uncomfortable, repeated his offence. "We don't want no frights here, dad. Tell her to go." "For shame, Noel," returned his father, sternly. "I am quite shocked at you. This kind lady has come to help us; and don't you know, my boy, that to a gentleman all women are beautiful?" "Please don't scold him, Mr. Ward," returned Miss Martin, good-naturedly; but her sallow face was a little flushed. "Noel and I will soon be good friends; it is only the fever makes him fractious." And as tact and good temper generally win the day, the children soon got very fond of their dear Marty, as they called her; and as they grew up she became their most valued friend and adviser until her death. It was Miss Martin whose sensible arguments overcame Everard's rooted aversion to the idea of his girls working. "As long as I live I will work for them," he would say; but Miss Martin stuck to her point gallantly.