red.

"Well, I never! and so you found your way all downstairs by yourself, you
little toddle. Now, Miss Hetty, I hope you haven't been giving the
precious lamb sugar; you know it never does suit the little dear. Oh,
fie! baby; and what sticky hands! Miss Hetty, she has crumpled all your
crape frills."

"What matter?" said Hester. "I wanted a good hug, and I gave her three or
four lumps. Babies won't squeeze you tight for nothing. There, my Nancy,
go back to Nurse. Nurse, take her away; I'll break down in a minute if I
see her looking at me with that little pout."

Nurse took the child into her arms.

"Good-bye, Miss Hester, dear. Try to be a good girl at school. Take my
word, missy--things won't be as dark as they seem."

"Good-bye, Nurse," said Hester, hastily. "Is that you, father? are you
calling me?"

She gathered up her muff and gloves, and ran out of the little study
where she had been making believe to eat breakfast. A tall, stern-looking
man was in the hall, buttoning on an overcoat; a brougham waited at the
door. The next moment Hester and her father were bowling away in the
direction of the nearest railway station. Nan's little chubby face had
faded from view. The old square, gray house, sacred to Hester because of
Nan, had also disappeared; the avenue even was passed, and Hester closed
her bright brown eyes. She felt that she was being pushed out into a cold
world, and was no longer in the same snug nest with Nan. An intolerable
pain was at her heart; she did not glance at her father, who during their
entire drive occupied himself over his morning paper. At last they
reached the railway station, and just as Sir John Thornton was handing
his daughter into a comfortable first-class carriage, marked "For Ladies
only," and was presenting her with her railway ticket and a copy of the
last week's illustrated newspaper, he spoke:

"The guard will take care of you, Hester. I am giving him full
directions, and he will come to you at every station, and bring you tea
or any refreshment you may require. This train takes you straight to
Sefton, and Mrs. Willis will meet you, or send for you there. Good-bye,
my love; try to be a good girl, and curb your wild spirits. I hope to see
you very much improved when you come home at midsummer. Good-bye, dear,
good-bye. Ah, you want to kiss me--well, just one kiss. There--oh, my
dear! you know I have a great dislike to emotion in public."

Sir John Thornton said this beca