d over her, coveted her. Marilla had crept in
and taken possession of his inmost soul. It was not likely there would
be any other occupant. For he had never seen any sign of relenting on
Miss Armitage's part. They were excellent friends. Neither overstepped
the prescribed bounds, and he must have something to love and to
cherish.

But he had to tear himself away presently, and he carried her with
him in his heart, and the next morning he dropped in and had her all
to himself. Mrs. Warren had gone to the dressmakers.

"Oh," Marilla said with a long sigh of delight, "how lovely it is to
have sisters! and--and a father! If I couldn't have but one I think
I'd take the father. Isn't Mr. Warren just splendid and sweet and
charming? There's a book of poems at Miss Armitage's that has one such
beautiful thing--'The Children's Hour.' And they have it here. The
hour after dinner if there are no visitors belongs to the children.
The smaller ones take possession of his lap and Edith sits on the arm
of the chair. I sat on the other," and she laughed with such a happy
sound. "And they tell him everything, what they have read and studied,
and the little troubles and differences and perplexities, and he
listens and explains and laughs with them when it is funny, and
everything is so nice. I didn't suppose fathers could be so dear and
sweet, but I never knew any real father except Mr. Borden, and Jack
was a torment. He wanted to pound and bang and wrinkle up things and
ask silly questions. Maybe the twins will be different, and perhaps
he will love girls the best."

"And you would like to have a father?" There was a subtle sweetness in
his tone.

She drew a long breath, he felt the heart quiver irregularly, the
little heart that would need careful watching the next few years, that
so far had been worked pretty hard.

"Oh, so much!" There was an exquisite longing and a sound as of a
prayer, "but you know I'd want some one I could love."

She was ready to give, not take all.

"Marilla, would I do?"

She raised her head and looked at him out of longing, pleading eyes
that turned joyous like a sudden glowing sunrise.

"Oh!" she cried, "Oh!"

But the wonderful satisfying intonation would have moved any heart.

"And I want a little girl," he continued. "I shall never have one of
my very own;"--it is the way a man thinks when he knows he cannot have
the woman he would choose for the mother of his children.

She was silent. He s