ike those children need some
one to look after them more than--more than----'

'Than I do? That ought to be true.'

'One of 'em is little more than a baby.' The wooden woman offered it as
an apology.

'Take the tray,' said Vida.

From the look on her face you would say she knew she had lost the
faithfullest of servants, and that five little children somewhere in a
market garden had won, if not a mother, at least a doughty champion.

CHAPTER IV

No matter how late either Vida Levering or her half-sister had gone to
bed the night before, they breakfasted, as they did so many other
things, at the hour held to be most advantageous for Doris.

Mr. Fox-Moore was sometimes there and often not. On those mornings when
his health or his exertions the night previous did not prevent his
appearance, there was little conversation at the Fox-Moore breakfast
table, except such as was initiated by the only child of the marriage, a
fragile girl of ten. Little Doris, owing to some obscure threat of
hip-disease, made much of her progress about the house in a footman's
arms. But hardly, so borne, would she reach the threshold of the
breakfast room before her thin little voice might be heard calling out,
'_Fa_-ther! _Fa_-ther!'

Those who held they had every ground for disliking the old man would
have been surprised to watch him during the half hour that ensued,
ministering to the rather querulous little creature, adapting his tone
and view to her comprehension, with an art that plainly took its
inspiration from affection. If Doris were not well enough to come down,
Mr. Fox-Moore read his letters and glanced at 'the' paper, directing his
few remarks to his sister-in-law, whom he sometimes treated in such a
way as would have given a stranger the impression, in spite of the
lady's lack of response, that there was some secret understanding
between the two.

A great many years before, Donald Fox-Moore had tumbled into a
Government office, the affairs of which he had ultimately got into such
excellent running order, that, with a few hours' supervision from the
chief each week, his clerks were easily able to maintain the high
reputation of that particular department of the public service. What Mr.
Fox-Moore did with the rest of his time was little known. A good deal of
it was spent with a much younger bachelor brother near Brighton. At
least, this was the family legend. In spite of his undoubted affection
for his child, little