"And what may this young lady have been about that she has not come to see me before, this evening?" he asked. "Nurse kept her out rather late, Hamish, for one thing, and I knew you were busy," came the answer; not from the child, but from Mrs. Channing. "Yes, I am very busy. I have not any minutes to give even to my darling Nelly tonight," he fondly said, kissing the bright hair and the rosy lips. "Nelly must go to bed and dream of papa instead." "You'll have time when the ship comes home, papa," said the child. "Lots of time then." "The ship is to be a book." "Ay." "And it will bring great luck?" "Yes. Please God." The last words were murmured in a tone suddenly hushed to reverence; low and happy; hopeful with a great, glad, assured hope, cheering to listen to; a trusted hope that lighted up the whole countenance of the man with its radiance, and shone forth in beams from his blue eyes. But he said no more; not even to his wife and his little child could he speak of the sanguine joy that anticipation wrought within him. With too many kisses to be counted, with good nights spoken yet and yet again, Nelly was released and disappeared with her mother. The child had been trained well. There was some indulgence on the parents' side--perhaps that is indispensable, in the case of an only child--but there was neither trouble nor rebellion on hers. Little Nelly Channing had been taught to obey good laws; and, to do so, came to her naturally. Mrs. Channing took her upstairs and turned into her own dressing-room, as usual. She deemed it well that the child should say her prayers in solitude, and, always when practicable, in the same place. Nelly sat down of her own accord by her mother, and was quite still and quiet while a very few easy verses from the Bible were read to her; and then she knelt down to say her simple prayers at her mother's knee. "God bless my darling little Nelly, and make her a good girl!" said Mrs. Chaining, as she took her out and resigned her to the nurse. "Are you ready for tea, Hamish?" she asked when she went downstairs again. "Quite. But, Ellen, I think I shall have to trouble you to bring it to me tonight." "Are you so very busy?" "Ay. Look here." He pointed with his pen to some papers on the table. "Those are proof sheets: and I must get this manuscript in tomorrow, or they will not insert it in the next month's number." "Hamish, I hope you are not doing too much," she gravely said. "I don't like this night-work." He laughed gleefully. "Too much! I only wish I had too much to do, Ellen. Never fear, dear." "I wish you would teach me to correct the proofs." "What an idea!" "I shall teach myself, sir." "It would be waste of time, young lady. I could not let anybody go over my proofs but myself." "You vain fellow! I wonder if self-conceit is indigenous to you literary men? Are they all as vain as Hamish Channing?"