"Oh!" said Julia indifferently; and she turned her thoughtful little face away, while her mother rose with the careworn look that so often sat there, giving place to the happy, maternal smile that came whenever she was alone with her child. "Why, Julie darling, you seem so quiet and dull to-night. Your little head is hot. You are not unwell, dear?" She knelt down beside the child, and drew the soft little head to her shoulder, and laid her cheek to the burning forehead. "That is nice," said the child, with a sigh of content. "Oh! mamma, it does do me so much good. My head doesn't ache now." "And did it ache before?" "Yes, a little," said the child thoughtfully, and turning up her face, she kissed the sweet countenance that was by her side again and again. "I do love you so, mamma." "Why of course you do, my dear." "I don't think I love papa." "Julie!" cried Millicent, starting from her as if she had been stung. "Oh I my child, my child," she continued, with passionate energy, "if you only knew how that hurts me. My darling, you do--you do love him more than you love me." Julia shook her head and gazed back full in her mother's eyes, as Millicent held her back at arm's length, and then caught her to her breast, sobbing wildly. "_I_ do try to love him, mamma," said the child, speaking quickly, in a half-frightened tone; "but when I put my arms round his neck and kiss him he pushes me away. I don't think he loves me; he seems so cross with me. But if it makes you cry, I'm going to try and love him ever so much. There." She kissed her mother with all a child's effusion, and nestled close to her. "He does love you, my darling," said Millicent, holding the child tightly to her, "as dearly as he loves me, and _I'm_ going to tell you why papa looks so serious sometimes. It is because he has so many business cares and troubles." "But why does papa have so many business cares and troubles?" said the child, throwing back her head, and beginning to toy with her mother's hair. "Because he has to think about making money, and saving, so as to render us independent, my darling. It is because he loves us both that he works so hard and is so serious." "I wish he would not," said the child. "I wish he would love me ever so instead, like Mr Bayle does. Mamma, why has not Mr Bayle been here to-day?" "I don't know, my child; he has been away perhaps." "But he did walk to the door with papa, and then did not come in." "Maybe he is busy, my dear." "Oh! I do wish people would not be busy," said the child pettishly, "it makes them so disagreeable. Thibs is always being busy, and then oh! she is so cross." "Why, Julie, you want people always to be laughing and playing with you." "No, no, mamma, I like to work sometimes--with Mr Bayle and learn, and so I do like the lessons I learn with you. You never look cross at me, and Mr Bayle never does."