I do
_so_ hope you'll be like the boy-that-brought-the-potatoes' papa, and
I'm going always to be good now, always.'

Poor Mr. Vane disengaged himself and his tea-cup with some difficulty
from his little daughter's embraces. To his surprise, when he could
manage to see her face, there were tears in her eyes. He was touched but
at the same time rather apprehensive; it was ticklish work when Biddy's
floodgates were opened.

'My poor little woman,' he said; 'yes, it's quite right to make good
resolutions. But, remember, Rome wasn't built in a day, Bride; you'll
have to keep up your courage and go on trying. But what's all that about
boys and potatoes?'

Biddy grew red; she felt by instinct that she must not tell over all the
conversation; mamma would be vexed.

'I only meant----' and she hesitated.

'Biddy knew a little greengrocer boy in London who was very fond of his
father,' said Rosalys quickly.

'Never mind about that just now,' Mrs. Vane added. 'I have several
things I want to ask you about your study. If you have finished your
tea, will you come in there with me? The work-people about here are
rather stupid, I'm afraid, Bernard. They don't the least understand
about the book-shelves.'

'Don't worry yourself about it,' Mr. Vane replied. 'Things will get
straight by degrees. I'm afraid you have much more trouble now that
M'Creagh's gone.'

M'Creagh was Mrs. Vane's 'old maid,' as the children called her. She had
been with her since Mrs. Vane's childhood, and had lately given up her
right to the title by getting married, to the great regret of everybody
except, I _fear_, Biddy. For M'Creagh had 'managed' the little girl in a
wonderful way; that is to say, she had kept her in order, and Biddy very
much preferred being left to her own devices.

Mrs. Vane sat down on the low couch--one end of which was covered with
piles of books,--they were in the study by this time.

'Yes,' she said, 'I miss M'Creagh, but my real trouble just now,
Bernard, is Biddy. I am afraid I don't take the right way with her,
somehow. She is so tiresomely heedless and provoking, and sometimes
I really wonder if she has any heart.'

Mr. Vane looked up in surprise, in which there was a little touch of
indignation, at this. Fresh from Bridget's loving hugs and the sight of
the tears in her eyes, he could hardly be expected to agree with this
opinion of her.

'My dear,' he said, 'I think you are not fair upon her. I really can't
help s