hand. "I have not yet eaten orphans' bread, and I'm not going to
begin now."

"But my aunt sent it, sir; and she was not always poor; and I think she
would like you to take it."

His only answer was to press her fingers more closely over the little
packet of money, as he drew her towards the parlour-door.

"I will go with you by-and-by, but first you must come in and see my
boys. Mrs Gordon wants to see you, too," said he.

The room into which they passed was a large and pleasant one, and Lilias
never forgot it, nor the kind words which were spoken to her there. The
bright yet softened light of a lamp made all parts of it visible. Over
the mantelpiece was a large mirror, and there were heavy crimson
curtains on the windows, and many pictures on the walls. On a low
chair, near the fire, sat a lady with a boy in her arms, and several
other children were playing about the room. They became quiet as their
father entered, and gazed with some curiosity on the stranger.

"This is my little friend, Lilias Elder," said the doctor. "It is
fortunate she came to-night. We might not have found her to-morrow."

Mrs Gordon received Lilias very kindly, speaking to her in a voice so
tender, that, in spite of herself, it brought the tears to her eyes.
Noticing her emotion, Mrs Gordon did not speak to her again for a
moment, and the children gathering round her, she quickly recovered
herself in receiving and returning their greetings.

When tea was fairly over, and the boys had gone to bed, a long
conversation took place between Lilias and her friends. Dr Gordon was
the father of six sons, but he had no daughter, and his heart overflowed
with love and pity for the orphan girl. Through all the long illness of
her father and brother, she had been an object of interest to the kind
physician. Her never-wearying attention to both, and the evident
comfort and support she had been to her mother in all her trials, had
filled him with admiration and pleasure. For months he had lost sight
of the family, and various circumstances had occurred to withdraw his
thoughts from the subject; but now that he had found Lilias an orphan
and in want, he longed to take her to his heart and home.

"I ought, perhaps, to have spoken first to your aunt, your natural
guardian; but I think she will be willing to give you up to us. We will
try and make you happy, my child."

Lilias shed many grateful tears as their plans were unfolded to her; bu