m the
rest of the ward. All at once Lotty's eyes opened. It seemed as though
she recognised her father, for a look of surprise came to her
countenance. Then there was a gasping for breath, a struggle, and the
eyes saw no more, for all their staring.

Mr. Woodstock left the hospital. At the first public-house he reached
he entered and drank a glass of whisky. The barman had forgotten the
piece of lemon, and was rewarded with an oath considerably stronger
than the occasion seemed to warrant. Arrived at certain cross-ways, Mr.
Woodstock paused. His eyes were turned downwards; he did not seem
dubious of his way, so much as in hesitation as to a choice of
directions. He took a few steps hither, then back; began to wend
thither, and again turned. When he at length decided, his road brought
him to Milton Street, and up to the door on which stood the name of
Mrs. Ledward.

He knocked loudly, and the landlady herself opened.

"A Mrs. Starr lived here, I believe?" he asked.

"She does live here, sir, but she's in the orspital at present, I'm
sorry to say."

"Is her child at home?"

"She is, sir."

"Let me see her, will you? In some room, if you please."

Mrs. Ledward's squinting eyes took shrewd stock of this gentleman, and,
with much politeness, she showed him into her own parlour. Then she
summoned Ida from upstairs, and, the door being closed upon the two,
she held her ear as closely as possible to the keyhole.

Ida recognised her visitor with a start, and drew back a little. There
were both fear and dislike in her face, fear perhaps predominating.

"You remember coming to see me," said Mr. Woodstock, looking down upon
the child, and a trifle askance.

"Yes, sir," was Ida's reply.

"I have just been at the hospital. Your mother is dead."

His voice gave way a little between the first and the last letter of
the last word. Perhaps the sound was more to his ear than the thought
had been to his mind. Perhaps, also, he felt when it was too late that
he ought to have made this announcement with something more of
preparation. Ida's eyes were fixed upon his face, and seemed expanding
as they gazed; her lips had parted; she was the image of sudden dread.
He tried to look away from her, but somehow could not. Then two great
tears dropped upon her cheeks, and her mouth began to quiver. She put
her hands up to her face, and sobbed as a grown woman might have done.

Mr. Woodstock turned away for a minute, and fingered a c