She shook her head. "I've got five dolls now," she said, counting on her little pink fingers, "mamma, papa, Thisbe, and me, and Mr Bayle." Hallam ground out an ejaculation, making the child start from him in alarm. "Sit still, little one," he said hastily. "Why, what's the matter? Here, what would you do with the money?" "Give it to mamma to pay Thisbe. Mamma was crying about wanting some money yesterday for grand-mamma." "Did your grandmother come and ask mamma for money yesterday?" "Yes; she said grandpapa was so ill and worried that she did not know what to do." Hallam rose from his seat, setting down the child, and began walking quickly about the room, while the girl, after watching him for a few moments in silence, began to edge her way slowly towards the door, as if to escape. She had nearly reached it when Hallam noticed her, and, catching her by the wrist, led her back to his chair, and reseated himself. "Look here, Julia," he said sharply, "I will not have you behave like this. Does your mother teach you to keep away from me because I seem so cross?" he added with a laugh that was not pleasant. "No," said the child, shaking her head; "she said I was to be very fond of you, because you were my dear papa." "Well, and are you?" "Yes," said the child, nodding, "I think so;" and she looked wistfully in his face. "That's right; and now be a good girl, and you shall have a pony to ride, and everything you like to ask for." "And money to give to poor mamma?" "Silence!" cried Hallam harshly, and the child shrank away, and covered her face with her hands. "Don't do that! Take down your hands. What have you to cry for now?" The child dropped her hands in a frightened manner, and looked at him with her large dark eyes, that seemed to be watching for a blow, her face twitching slightly, but there were no tears. "Any one would think I was a regular brute to the child," he muttered, scowling at her involuntarily, and then sitting very thoughtful and quiet, holding her on his knee, while he thrust back the breakfast things, and tapped the table. At last, turning to her with a smile, "Have a cup of coffee, Julie?" he said. She shook her head. "I had my breakfast with mamma ever so long since." He frowned again, looking uneasily at the child, and resuming the tapping upon the table with his thin, white fingers. The window looking out on the market place was before them, quiet, sunny, and with only two people visible, Mrs Pinet, watering her row of flowers with a jug, and the half of old Gemp, as he leaned out of his doorway, and looked in turn up the street and down. All at once a firm, quick step was heard, and the child leaped from her father's knee.