over to give a
soft impact to her father's brown brow.

"Who did you come to town with?" he said suddenly. She told him.

"Well, now you had better go back with her, and I will see what I can
do."

"You will go, father?"

"If I cannot immediately, I will send you and come on after."

"I cannot go without you, father. Oh, come, come!" And Dolly rained
kisses upon his face, and stroked his forehead and cheeks, and was so
entirely delicious in her tenderness and her sweetness, her love and
her anxiety, that the heart of ordinary man could not stand it.
Anything else became more easy than to refuse her. So Mr. Copley said
he would go; and received a new harvest of caresses in reward, not
wholly characterised by the usual drought of harvest-time, for some
drops of joy and thankfulness still came falling, a sunlit shower.

"Now, my child," said her father, "you had better go back to your good
housekeeper, and then back to your mother, and get all things ready for
a start."

"Father, I can stay here to-night, can't I?"

Mr. Copley was not sure that he wanted her; yet he could not refuse to
make inquiry. There was no difficulty; plenty of room; and Dolly
joyously prepared herself to gather in the fruits of her victory,
through that following care and those measures of security for want of
which many a victory has been won in vain. Mrs. Jersey had long since
been informed that she need not wait, and had driven away. Dolly now
sent for her portmanteau, and established herself in her father's
sitting room.

Mr. Copley looked on, helplessly; half delighted, half bored. He would
not have chosen to have Dolly there just then; yet being there she was
one of the most lovely visions that a father's eye could rest upon.
Grown to be a woman--yes, she was; ordering and arranging things with a
woman's wisdom and skill; ordering _him_, Mr. Copley felt with a queer
sensation; and yet, so simple and free and sweet in all her words and
ways as might have become seven instead of seventeen. St. Leger might
be glad if he could get her! Yet she was inconvenient to Mr. Copley.
She stood in his way, like the angel in Balaam's; only not with a sword
drawn, but with loving looks, and kisses, and graces, and wiles of
affection; and who could withstand an angel? He gave up trying; he let
her have her way; and when dinner time came, Dolly and he had an almost
jovial dinner. Until Mr. Copley rose from table, unlocked a cupboard,
and took out a