“Dealings with the fairies,” said Raeburn, smiling. “Your beggar-child with the scones suddenly transformed into a beneficent rewarder.” “Not from you, father?” Raeburn laughed. “A pretty substantial fairy for you. No, no, I had no hand in it. I can't give you presents while I am in debt, my bairn.” “Oh, isn't it jolly to get what one wants!” said Erica, with a fervor which made the three grown-up people laugh. “Very jolly,” said Raeburn, giving her a little mute caress. “But now, Erica, please to go back and eat something, or I shall have my reporter fainting in the middle of a speech.” She obeyed, carrying away the book with her, and enlivening them with extracts from it; once delightedly discovering a most appropriate passage. “Why, of course,” she exclaimed, “you and Mr. Osmond, father, are smoking the Peace Pipe.” And with much force and animation she read them bits from the first canto. Raeburn left the room before long to get ready for his meeting, but Erica still lingered over her new treasure, putting it down at length with great reluctance to prepare her notebook and sharpen her pencil. “Isn't that a delightful bit where Hiawatha was angry,” she said; “it has been running in my head all day-- “'For his heart was hot within him, Like a living coal his heart was.' That's what I shall feel like tonight when Mr. Randolph attacks father.” She ran upstairs to dress, and, as the door closed upon her, Mrs. Raeburn turned to Charles Osmond with a sort of apology. “She finds it very hard not to speak out her thoughts; it will often get her into trouble, I am afraid.” “It is too fresh and delightful to be checked, though,” said Charles Osmond; “I assure you she has taught me many a lesson tonight.” The mother talked on almost unreservedly about the subject that was evidently nearest her heart--the difficulties of Erica's education, the harshness they so often met with, the harm it so evidently did the child--till the subject of the conversation came down again much too excited and happy to care just then for any unkind treatment. Had she not got a Longfellow of her very own, and did not that unexpected pleasure make up for a thousand privations and discomforts? Yet, with all her childishness and impetuosity, Erica was womanly, too, as Charles Osmond saw by the way she waited on her mother, thinking of everything which the invalid could possibly want while they were gone, brightening the whole place with her sunshiny presence. Whatever else was lacking, there was no lack of love in this house. The tender considerateness which softened Erica's impetuosity in her mother's presence, the loving comprehension, between parent and child, was very beautiful to see. CHAPTER IV. “Supposing it is true!” A man who strives earnestly and perseveringly to convince others, at least convinces us that he is convinced himself. Guesses at Truth.