completion?"

"Nice Stanor! Handsome Stanor! Clever, sensible, discriminating
Stanor!"

"Quite so," said the discriminating one dryly, "but I should have
liked--" Suddenly he burst into a ringing boyish laugh. "This is the
_rummiest_ proposal that was ever made!"

Pixie looked anxious.

"Is it? `Rum'? What exactly does `rum' mean, applied to a proposal?
It didn't sound approving. It's my very own proposal, and I won't have
it abused. I've enjoyed it very much. ... I think we shall be very
happy, Stanor, when we are married and settled down in our own little
house."

Stanor looked at her keenly, and as he looked he sighed.

"Dear little Pixie," he said gently, "I hope we shall!"

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

ESMERALDA IS TROUBLED.

"Engaged!" cried Esmeralda shrilly. "Engaged! You! To Stanor Vaughan?
Pixie O'Shaughnessy, I never heard such nonsense in my life."

"Then you've listened to an uncommon amount of sense. I should not have
thought it, to judge from your actions," returned Pixie, nettled,
"'Twould be interesting to hear what strikes you as so ridiculous about
it!"

It was three days after Stanor's unexpected visit with its momentous
consequences, but in consideration of the anxiety of Jack's parents, the
news had been withheld until the boy had been pronounced out of danger.
Only this morning had the glad verdict been vouchsafed. Jack would
live; given a steady, even improvement, with no unforeseen
complications, he would live, and in a few weeks time be up and about
once more. The eye trouble would be more lasting, for the child was of
a peculiarly sensitive nature, and the shock seemed inclined to localise
itself in the eyes. The sight itself would be saved, but for some years
to come it would need the most careful tending. He must wear darkened
spectacles; be forbidden to read; be constantly under skilled care.
Given such precautions the sight would probably become normal in later
years...

When the first verdict was given, the father, and mother clung to one
another in an ecstasy of relief and thankfulness. Throughout those last
terrible days, when every conscious breath had carried with it a prayer,
Joan had looked deep into her own soul and beheld with opened eyes the
precipice on which she stood. How far, how far she had travelled since
those early married days, when, with her first-born in her arms, her
highest ambition had been that she should be enabled so to train him
tha