Produced by Susan Skinner, Chris Curnow, Pamela Patten and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net [Illustration: THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER VOL. XX.—NO. 1011.] MAY 13, 1899. [PRICE ONE PENNY.] GOOD NIGHT. BY SARAH DOUDNEY. [Illustration: “SLEEP, SISTER, SLEEP.”] _All rights reserved._] Sleep, sister, sleep, while the lovely light Shines still through the dark old firs; The birds sleep sound in their nests all night, And only the wild wind stirs; Far over the hills and far away The earth is losing its gold; And sheep-bells chime through the twilight grey, While the flocks come home to fold. Lie down, my dear, in your own warm nest, And sister will sit and sing When mother watches her darling’s rest, And the stars are clustering Like silver flowers in the darkened sky, And the toil of man is done; Sleep, baby, sleep to my lullaby, And wake with the waking sun! THE HOUSE WITH THE VERANDAH. BY ISABELLA FYVIE MAYO, Author of “Other People’s Stairs,” “Her Object in Life,” etc. CHAPTER VII. THE ROOTS OF HOSPITALITY. Lucy paid no heed to her sister’s words, being diverted by another bit of by-play. “Jessie Morison’s” keen grey eyes had fallen on little Hugh, and her face had instantly broken into a smile. Could this superior, experienced, well-trained woman really want a general servant’s place? “Yes, ma’am,” said Jessie Morison, “I’m wanting a quiet place that I could keep nice and comfortable.” “But I have hitherto had quite a young woman,” urged Mrs. Challoner. “There are only myself and the little boy—until my husband comes home from a voyage,” she explained. Jessie Morison pondered. “That will suit me nicely,” she said. “Did the girl do the washing, ma’am?” “Yes,” answered Lucy; “but——” “I’m a capital washer,” said Jessie Morison, “and I dress well, too. I shouldn’t need help, ma’am—no, not for such a small family. I don’t like strangers coming about my kitchen, they make more work than they do.” “We dine early,” said Lucy. “There are but few visitors. But you would have everything to do in the house; and while my husband is away, I shall not be able to give much help, as I am busy otherwise.” “It’s not a very large house, maybe?” asked Jessie, in a pleasant tone, suggesting only that in her opinion a small house was the proper thing. “No, it is a small house,” said Lucy. “Have you always been in service?” “Well, ma’am, yes and no. I was in service as a girl. Then I got married. I’m a widow, ma’am. He only lived three years. He was thrown from a horse. I’ve been in service since.” “How long were you in your last situation, and where was it?” inquired Lucy. “It was near Edinburgh, ma’am—between Edinburgh and Berwick—and I was there twenty years.” She said this quite simply, as if she had no idea of effect. “Twenty years!” echoed Lucy.