might he, risk a visit to Charlotte? He was
resolved that in some way he must save the boy; but it was not reserved
for his hand to do the good deed on this occasion. After breakfast he
went out, and Mr. Home, feeling almost like a dead man, hurried off to
the daily service.

For a brief moment Charlotte was alone. The instant she found herself
so, she went straight down on her knees, and with eyes and heart raised
to heaven, said, aloud and fervently,--

"Thy holy, loving, righteous Will be done."

Then she got up and went to her little son. In the course of the morning
the boy said to his mother,--

"How much I should like to see that pretty lady."

"It would not be safe for her to come to you, my darling," said Mrs.
Home. "You are not yet quite free from infection, and if you saw her
now she might get ill. You would not harm your pretty lady, Harold?"

"No, indeed, mother, not for worlds. But if I can't see her," he added,
"may I have her toys to play with?"

The mother fetched them and laid them on the bed.

"And now give me what was in the brown paper parcels, mother. The dear,
dear, dainty clothes! Oh! didn't our baby look just lovely in his velvet
frock? Please, mother, _may_ I see those pretty things once again?"

Mrs. Home could not refuse. The baby's pelisse, Daisy's frock, and
Harold's own hat were placed by his side. He took up the hat with a
great sigh of admiration. It was of dark purple plush, with a plume of
ostrich feathers.

"May I put it on, mother?" asked the little lad.

He did so, then asked for a glass to look at himself.

"Ah?" he said, half crying, half frightened at his wasted pale little
face under this load of finery, "I don't like it now. My pretty, pretty
lady's hat is much too big for me now. I can't wear it. Oh! mother,
wouldn't she be disappointed?"

"She shan't be," said the mother, "for I will draw in the lining, and
then it will fit you as well as possible."

"But oh! mother, do be careful. I saw her put in a nice little bit of
soft paper; I saw her put it under the lining my own self. You will
crush that bit of paper if you aren't careful, mother."

The mother did not much heed the little eager voice, she drew in a cord
which ran round the lining, then again placed the hat on Harold's head.

"Now it fits, darling," she said.

"But I think the bit of paper is injured," persisted the boy. "How funny
I should never have thought of it until now. I'll take it out, moth