All further conversation in the drawing-room was forbidden for that night. Mrs. Woodward would have willingly postponed the reading of Charley's story so as to enable Katie to go to bed after the accident, had she been able to do so. But she was not able to do so without an exercise of a species of authority which was distasteful to her, and which was very seldom heard, seen, or felt within the limits of Surbiton Cottage. It would moreover have been very ungracious to snub Charley's manuscript, just when Charley had made himself such a hero; and she had, therefore, been obliged to read it. But now that it was done, she hurried Katie off to bed, not without many admonitions. 'Good night,' she said to Charley; 'and God bless you, and make you always as happy as we are now. What a household we should have had to-night, had it not been for you!' Charley rubbed his eyes with his hand, and muttered something about there not having been the slightest danger in the world. 'And remember, Charley,' she said, paying no attention to his mutterings, 'we always liked you--liked you very much; but liking and loving are very different things. Now you are a dear, dear friend--one of the dearest.' In answer to this, Charley was not even able to mutter; so he went his way to the inn, and lay awake half the night thinking how Katie had kissed his hand: during the other half he dreamt, first that Katie was drowned, and then that Norah was his bride. Linda and Katie had been so hurried off, that they had only been just able to shake hands with Harry and Charley. There is, however, an old proverb, that though one man may lead a horse to water, a thousand cannot make him drink. It was easy to send Katie to bed, but very difficult to prevent her talking when she was there. 'Oh, Linda,' she said, 'what can I do for him?' 'Do for him?' said Linda; 'I don't know that you can do anything for him. I don't suppose he wants you to do anything.' Linda still looked on her sister as a child; but Katie was beginning to put away childish things. 'Couldn't I make something for him, Linda--something for him to keep as a present, you know? I would work so hard to get it done.' 'Work a pair of slippers, as Crinoline did,' said Linda. Katie was brushing her hair at the moment, and then she sat still with the brush in her hand, thinking. 'No,' said she, after a while, 'not a pair of slippers--I shouldn't like a pair of slippers.' 'Why not?' said Linda. 'Oh--I don't know--but I shouldn't.' Katie had said that Crinoline was working slippers for Macassar because she was in love with him; and having said so, she could not now work slippers for Charley. Poor Katie! she was no longer a child when she thought thus. 'Then make him a purse,' said Linda. 'A purse is such a little thing.' 'Then work him the cover for a sofa, like what mamma and I are doing for Gertrude.' 'But he hasn't got a house,' said Katie.