"My dear little girl," said the old man, deeply affected by what he considered such thoughtfulness, "you may be sure that all my thoughts with regard to you are prompted by real love for you. I don't pretend that I have not looked forward very much indeed to these holidays. Nevertheless, I cannot forget that I am old, my love, and you are young. The young must have their day, dear, and the pleasure of the old is to watch them enjoying it. While you were out I have been thinking over my little money matters, and I think I can quite manage to give you a few extra pounds over and above your fare to Paris--a ten-pound note, perhaps, to buy some pretty little articles of dress." "Thank you so much, uncle," said Annie, speaking in her sweetest tone. "But my dear child, this will depend altogether on what Mrs Lyttelton says. But I expect the best, dear; for all her girls are nice, and you say that Miss Lushington is your special friend." "My very greatest," said Annie--"a sweet girl--a poetess!" "Indeed, Annie? She shows gifts at this early age? How very interesting! I am always impressed by young efforts; I like to encourage them. You have not by chance any of her little effusions by you?" Now Annie had brought poor Susan Martin's manuscript book with her to the Rectory. She thought for a minute. Would it be safe to show these verses to the Rector? After a minute she said: "I think I have. I will look in my trunk after tea." "Do, my love; I shall be much interested. I used to indulge in verses when I was young myself, dear. Ah, those far-off days! And I had my dreams of greatness too. We all have our little ambitions when we are young. I wonder what yours are, my little Annie." "Oh, I don't want to be clever at all," said Annie; "I just want to have a good time--and to make you happy," she added as an afterthought, putting out her small hand and laying it on his. "Bless you, my darling--bless you! You are the sunshine of my life. Yes--thank God, I am much better this afternoon; that horrid feeling in my head has passed away. It gives me anxiety now and then, but only on your account, my child. As far as I am concerned, I am ready and waiting--only waiting to obey. I have had my warning--most old people have, dear; but for your sake I would live a little." "Of course you will live for many, many years longer, Uncle Maurice," said Annie, rising and kissing him. "And now you are not going to be dismal, or to talk horrid things about--about dying. I am going to give you your tea; you always love the tea that Annie makes for you." She flitted out of the room. She was the gayest of the gay during the rest of that evening. She chatted, and laughed, and made herself pleasant to every one; and when Uncle Maurice went to bed, feeling almost quite well again, he thanked God on his knees for having given him so bonny a creature as Annie to be the light and joy of his old age.