“How absurd!” was the reply. “Do you think I should let you tire yourself for me? I hope I am not quite so selfish, my dear child,” for she was still holding his arm beseechingly; “you must really let me go, for I am dreadfully busy; rest yourself and get well, that is all I ask of you,” and he kissed her and left the room. He was not often hasty with her, but he was overworked and irritable. We made the most of that week between us. Reggie soon recovered, and as long as he was kept in a certain temperature, and carefully watched, gave us no further anxiety. His mother took entire charge of him during that week; she came up to the nursery as soon as she was dressed, and stayed with us until Reggie was in bed and Travers came to summon her. She even took her meals with us. Dr. Myrtle thought she was suffering from a chill, and the warm nursery was just the right temperature for her. It was a lovely sight to watch her with her children. I think even Mr. Morton was struck by the beauty of the scene when he came up one afternoon and found her sitting in her easy chair with Reggie on her lap and Joyce standing beside her. “You seem all very happy together,” he said, as he took up his position on the rug. I had retreated with my work into the other room, but I could hear her answer distinctly. “Oh, Alick, it has been such a happy week—a real holiday; it was worth being ill to see so much of the children; Reggie has such pretty ways; I knew so little about him before. He can say ‘fada,’ quite plainly.” “Indeed, my boy, then suppose you say your new words.” “Do you know what I have been wishing all this week?” she continued, when Reggie had finished his vocabulary, and had been taken into his father’s arms. “No, my dear,” sitting down beside her, “unless you wished for me to be a Cabinet Minister.” “Oh no, Alick,” and there was pain in her voice, “not unless you wish it very much too; I had a very different desire from that.” “Perhaps you were longing for a house in the country; well, that may come by-and-by.” “Wrong again, Alick. I was wishing that you were a poor man—not a very poor man, I should not like that—and that we lived in a small house with a pretty garden where there would be a lawn for the children to play on, and plenty of flowers for them to pick.” “Indeed! this is a strange wish of yours, you discontented woman.” “No, not discontented, but very, very happy, dear, so you need not frown over my poor little wish; everyone builds castles, only mine is not a castle, but a cottage.” “I should not care to live in your cottage, Violet; I am an ambitious man. The Cabinet would be more to my taste.”