he cast down her eyes. The fire was roaring, but
the room was freezing. The sitting-room door was opened a crack, and
remained so for a second, then it was widened, and Andrew peeped in.
Then he entered, tiptoeing gingerly, as if he were afraid of
disturbing a meeting. He brought a blue knitted shawl, which he put
over Ellen's shoulders.

"Mother thinks you had better keep this on till the room gets warm,"
he whispered. Then he withdrew, shutting the door softly.

Robert, left alone with Ellen in this solemnly important fashion,
felt utterly at a loss. He had never considered himself especially
shy, but an embarrassment which was almost ridiculous was over him.
Ellen sat with her eyes cast down. He felt that the child on his
knee was regarding them both curiously.

"If you have come to see Ellen, why don't you speak to her?"
demanded Amabel, suddenly. Then both Robert and Ellen laughed.

"This is your aunt's little girl, isn't she?" asked Robert.

Amabel answered before Ellen was able. "My mamma is sick, and they
carried her away to the asylum," she told Robert. "She--she tried to
hurt Amabel; she tried to"--Amabel made that hideous gesture with
her tiny forefinger across her throat. "Mamma was sick or she
wouldn't," she added, challengingly, to Robert.

"Of course she wouldn't, you poor little soul," said Robert.

Suddenly Amabel burst into tears, and began to wriggle herself free
from his arms. "Let me go," she demanded; "let me go. I want Ellen."

When Robert loosened his grasp she fled to Ellen, and was in her lap
with a bound.

"I want my mamma--I want my mamma," she moaned.

Ellen leaned her cheek against the poor little flaxen head. "There,
there, darling," she whispered, "don't. Mamma will come home as soon
as she gets better."

"How long will that be, Ellen?"

"Pretty soon, I hope, darling. Don't."

Poor Eva Tenny had been in the asylum some four months, and the
reports as to her condition were no more favorable. Ellen's voice,
in spite of herself, had a hopeless tone, which the child was quick
to detect.

"I want my mamma," she repeated. "I want her, Ellen. It has been
to-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow after that, and the
to-morrows are yesterdays, and she hasn't come."

"She will come some time, darling."

Robert sat eying the two with intensest pity. "Do you like
chocolates, Amabel?" he asked.

The child repeated that she wanted her mother still, as with a sort
of mechanical regu