The poor woman looked the rich woman (as she thought) in the face, with eyes that filled with tears. She could not answer in words before the strangers. She mutely and faintly shook her head, with a pathetic attempt at a smile. Both Lucy and little Jock saw the silent communication, and divined it, perhaps, better than the elder lady. As for Lucy, her heart ached with sympathy, and a flood of sudden resolutions, intentions, took possession of her; but what could she do? She had to keep silent, holding Jock’s little hand fast, who stood by her knee. “I thought you might perhaps have an opening for the little boy I heard of. He is a delicate child, and peculiar; he would require a great deal of special care. If you think you have time--” “Oh,” said Mrs. Russell, the pink flush deepening on her cheeks, “plenty of time! And I think I may say for myself that I am very good with delicate children. I take an interest in them. I--you would like to see Bertie, perhaps, about the Latin?” Mrs. Russell rang her bell hastily. She was feverishly anxious to conclude the bargain without loss of time. “Will you tell Mr. Bertie I want him?” she said, going to the door, to anticipate the maid, who was not too anxious to reply. “I am here, mother,” they heard in a youthful bass--at no great distance--evidently the house was all in a stir of expectation. Mrs. Russell came back with a little nervous laugh. “Bertie will be here directly,” she said. “I would ask you to step into the school-room, and see them; but the truth is they are all out for a walk. Mary has taken them to the heath. It is so good for them--and it was such a beautiful day--and my headache was particularly bad. When my headache is very bad, the voices of the children drive me wild.” Poor soul! as soon as she had said this, she perceived that it was a thing inexpedient to say. But by this time the door had opened again, and introduced a new figure. He came in with his hands in his pockets, after the manner of young men. He, too, was like Katie; but his face was cloudy, not so open as hers, and his features handsomer. He stood hesitating, his eyes going from one to another; to Lucy first--was not that natural? Then he straightened himself out, and took a hand from one of his pockets, and presented it to Lady Randolph. He was eager too, but with a suppressed bravado, as if anxious to show that he did not mean it, and was himself personally much at his ease. “So this is Bertie!” said Lady Randolph. “What a long time it must be since I have seen him! Why, you are a man now; and what a comfort it must be to your mother to have you with her!” Mrs. Russell clasped her thin hands. “Yes, it _is_ a comfort!” she said. “What should I do if Bertie were away?”