y called "the taking
in" of a certain blue jacket, which was about to pass from Matthew,
the eldest born, to David, the second, and looked up at her husband
affectionately. Her husband, however, spoke not; he only made a sign,
partly with his eyebrow, partly with a jerk of his thumb over his right
shoulder, in the direction of the young lady we have described, and then
completed the pantomime with a melancholy shake of the head. The wife
turned round and looked hard, the scissors horizontally raised in one
hand, while the other reposed on the cuff of the jacket. At this moment
a low knock was heard at the street-door. The worthy pair saw the girl
shrink back, with a kind of tremulous movement; presently there came the
sound of a footstep below, the creak of a hinge on the ground-floor, and
again all was silent.

"That is Mr. Mainwaring's knock," said one of the children.

The girl left the room abruptly, and, light as was her step, they heard
her steal up the stairs.

"My dears," said the parson, "it wants an hour yet to dark; you may go
and walk in the square."

"'T is so dull in that ugly square, and they won't let us into the
green. I am sure we'd rather stay here," said one of the children, as
spokesman for the rest; and they all nestled closer round the hearth.

"But, my dears," said the parson, simply, "I want to talk alone with
your mother. However, if you like best to go and keep quiet in your own
room, you may do so."

"Or we can go into Susan's?"

"No," said the parson; "you must not disturb Susan."

"She never used to care about being disturbed. I wonder what's come to
her?"

The parson made no rejoinder to this half-petulant question. The
children consulted together a moment, and resolved that the square,
though so dull, was less dull than their own little attic. That being
decided, it was the mother's turn to address them. And though Mr.
Fielden was as anxious and fond as most fathers, he grew a little
impatient before comforters, kerchiefs, and muffettees were arranged,
and minute exordiums as to the danger of crossing the street, and the
risk of patting strange dogs, etc., were half-way concluded; with a
shrug and a smile, he at length fairly pushed out the children, shut the
door, and drew his chair close to his wife's.

"My dear," he began at once, "I am extremely uneasy about that poor
girl."

"What, Miss Clavering? Indeed, she eats almost nothing at all, and sits
so moping alone; but sh