“You certainly do want a _few_ things!” Galt tried to jest. “But we can't have everything, you know, in this life.” “Not unless we are rich; and we are very poor at our house; but when the expressman brings the money for the pictures we are very glad. Then we have a good dinner. Last time Granny got a dress, and I got several suits like this one. Mother says some day we may go away off to another country where I'll have children to play with. I think that would be nicer than having toys.” “Yes, yes,” Galt responded, from the depths of a new and rasping remorse, as the boy reclined on his arm and stretched out with a delicious sigh. “You said you liked me,” the child said, quite seriously, “but you never have kissed me--not once.” “But men don't kiss little boys,” Galt answered, with a start. “Oh, yes they do; Doctor Wynn has often kissed me, and hugged me, so!” Lionel put his arms round Galt's neck, pressed his soft, warm cheek against the cold, rough one, and kissed it, once, twice, three times. “And I've seen Mr. Weston kiss Grover when he runs to meet him at the gate.” “We've known each other such a short time,” Galt apologized, lamely, as the hot blood coursed through his veins, and the child released him and lay staring at him from his great, reproachful eyes. “I don't care, you'd kiss me if you loved me as--as much as I do you. Won't you, just one time? Then I'll go.” “Yes, I'll kiss you--there!” Galt said, as he folded the child in his arms and pressed his lips to the warm, pink brow. “I had to make you!” Lionel said, as he stood down on the floor. “That is the way I do when my mother is angry. I keep begging her to kiss me till she does; then she laughs and hugs me tighter than ever. Granny says I know how to manage a woman. Good-bye. I thank you for bringing me to your house. Now I am sure you like little boys.” After the child had gone, Galt walked up and down the veranda, his mind upon problems he had never faced before. He was interrupted by General Sylvester, who hurried across the lawn to speak to him on his way down-town. “I've only a bare minute,” the old gentleman said. “I suppose you know we are off for New York. You'd better come along and help us have a good time.” “I am afraid Wynn would hardly prescribe a remedy so strenuous as that in my case,” Galt returned. “You see, I was tied down there recently, and got enough of it for a man who is said to need quiet and a change of scene.” “That's true,” Sylvester admitted. “It was only because we'd like to have you so much that I mentioned it. But we'll take you in hand when we get back. So you be ready, young man.” When the old gentleman had walked away, with his springy, boyish step, and the gate-latch had clicked behind him, Galt went back into the library. He gathered up Dora's pictures with reverent hands, and took them up to his bedroom. He arranged them in good positions, and stood looking at them steadily.