“But he would refuse this,” said Mrs. Meade. “You will have some children of your own some time, Mrs. Falconer, then this poor little one would be thrust aside. No, no--I could not part with him, even to one who likes him as much as you do, dear lady.” Pansy gazed at her with a grieved and baffled air. Her red under lip quivered and tears started to her beautiful eyes. For a moment she could not speak, so bitter was her disappointment; and Mrs. Meade folded up the tiny garments in an embarrassed fashion, ashamed of refusing the lady’s request, but feeling that she was acting for the best. Suddenly a bright thought came to Pansy. “Mrs. Meade, I see that you love Pet too well to give him up,” she said gently. “I don’t blame you, for I love him dearly myself. But couldn’t you come and be my housekeeper? Then I could see him every day.” Mrs. Meade threw up her hands in dismay. “Leave the Wyldes!” she cried. “Oh, my dear young lady, I’ve kept house for them these twenty-five years, and to leave them now would be like pulling up an old tree by the roots. I’m too old to be transplanted. I should die.” Pansy clasped the child close to her aching heart with a cry of despair that she could not repress. “Oh, my little darling, my little darling, I shall see you no more, then! Fate is too strong for us,” she cried. Mrs. Meade took off her spectacles and wiped the moisture of tears from them. She was deeply touched by Pansy’s affection for Pet, and, after a moment, she said significantly: “Mrs. Falconer, I’m sorry to seem harsh and unkind, refusing to give you the child, but I know you will forget it directly. While, as for me, my heart is bound up in him, and I’ve always said that I’d never give up my claim, except to some one who had a better right to him than I have.” Pansy glanced up, startled, and met the significant gaze of the kind old eyes. She understood. With a burning blush, she put the little one out of her arms and rose to go. “Then, of course, I can urge you no longer. Your claim is too strong,” she said, trying to speak coldly, as a mask for her bitter disappointment. “As for not seeing Pet any more, Mrs. Falconer, if you care about it I can make it easy enough for you to see him. I take him to the Capitol Square every pleasant afternoon,” said Mrs. Meade; and then she asked eagerly; “Won’t you come in the parlor and play the piano for Pet? He loves music so dearly.” “I ought to go this minute,” she said, but yielded to the tiny, persuasive little fingers that clasped hers, and stayed almost an hour longer, playing and singing for the delighted little one. When she took leave she slipped a golden coin in the baby fingers. “To buy candy,” she said, kissing him fondly, and promising to come to the Capitol Square the next afternoon to see him. Then she tore herself away, and Mrs. Meade had hard work to console Pet, who wept bitterly at the parting. CHAPTER XXIV. OLD LOVERS FACE TO FACE.