"Meg! Meg!" said that young person, dancing into the room, holding a disreputable doll in her arms, "mumsey want Meg?" "Yes," said Kitty, as Meg came to the bedside. "Come up here, dear, and tell mumsey how you are." "Meg is quite well, and so is Meg's daughter," holding out the doll for Kitty to kiss; "but, mumsey, why is the lady so sad?" Eugénie, who had remained silent since Kitty's speech, now came forward and kissed the child. "I'm not sad, dear," she said quietly, taking her seat by the bed, "only I want Meg to tell me something." Meg nodded. "A fairy tale?" she asked sedately. Kitty laughed, though she looked anxious. "No, my dear, not a fairy tale," she said, smoothing the child's hair; "mumsey wants you to tell the story of the man who got out of the window." "My Mr. Keith," said Meg at once. Kitty glanced at Eugénie, who sat with bowed head, gazing steadfastly at her hands. "You see," she observed with a sigh, "the child says it was Mr. Keith." Miss Rainsford re-echoed the sigh, then looked at Meg. "Meg, dear," she said in her soft, persuasive voice, "come here, dear, and sit on my knee." Meg, nothing loth, scrambled down off the bed, and soon established herself on Eugénie's lap, where she sat shaking her auburn curls. Kitty glanced affectionately at the serious little face, and picked up her doll, which was lying on the counterpane. "Now, Meg," she said gaily, "you tell Miss Rainsford the story of the man and the window. I'll play with this." "Meg's daughter," observed Meg reprovingly. "Yes, Meg's daughter," repeated Kitty with a smile. "Come, Meg," said Eugénie, smoothing the child's hair, "tell me all about the man." "It was my Mr. Keith, you know," began Meg, resting her cheek against Eugénie's breast, "He took me upstairs--'cause I was so sleepy--an' he put me to bed, an' then I sleeped right off." "And how long did you sleep, dear?" asked Eugénie. "Oh, a minute," said Meg, "just a minute; then I didn't feel sleepy, and opened my eyes wide--quite wide--as wide as this," lifting up her face in confirmation, "and Mr. Keith, he was getting out of the window." "How do you know it was Mr. Keith?" asked Eugénie quickly, "'Cause he put me in bed," said Meg wisely, "and he was there all the time." "He didn't speak to you when he was near the window?" "No; he got out, and tumbled. I laughed when he tumbled," finished Meg triumphantly; "then I sleeped again, right off." Eugénie put the girl down off her knee, and turned to Kitty. "I believe Keith did put the child to bed," she said quietly, "but I think she must have slept for some time, and that the man she saw getting out of the window was some one else; of course, being awakened by the noise, she would only think she had slept a minute." "A minute, a minute," repeated Meg, who had climbed back on to the bed, and was jumping the doll up and down. "But who could the second man have been?" asked Kitty, perplexed.