but Captain Charteris made an
incursion on her the next day to ask if she could receive the children on
the ensuing morning. He had arranged to set off before daybreak,
embarking for Ostend before the children were up, so as to spare the
actual parting, and Honora undertook to fetch them home in the course of
the day. He had hoped to avoid their knowing of the impending separation
but he could only prevail so far as to extract a promise that they should
not know when it was to take place. Their father had told them of their
destination and his own as they sat on his bed in the morning before he
rose, and apparently it had gone off better than could have been
expected; little Owen did not seem to understand, and his sister was a
child who never shed tears.

The day came, and Honora awoke to some awe at the responsibility, but
with a yearning supplied, a vacancy filled up. For at least six months
she should be as a mother, and a parent's prayers could hardly have been
more earnest.

She had not long been dressed, when a hasty peal was heard at the bell,
and no sooner was the door opened than in hurried Captain Charteris,
breathless, and bearing a large plaid bundle with tangled flaxen locks
drooping at one end, and at the other rigid white legs, socks trodden
down, one shoe wanting.

He deposited it, and there stood the eldest child, her chin buried in her
neck, her fingers digging fast into their own palms, her eyes gleaming
fiercely at him under the pent-house she had made of her brows.

'There's an introduction!' he said, panting for breath. 'Found her in
time--the Strand--laid flat on back seat, under all the plaids and
bags--her father put up his feet and found her--we drove to the lane--I
ran down with her--not a moment--can't stay, good-bye, little Cilly
goose, to think she could go that figure!'

He advanced to kiss her, but she lifted up her shoulder between him and
her face, much as a pugnacious pigeon flap its wings, and he retreated.

'Wiser not, maybe! Look here,' as Honora hurried after him into the hall
to ask after the patient; 'if you have a bit of sticking-plaster, he had
better not see this.'

Lucilla had made her little pearls of teeth meet in the fleshy part of
his palm.

Honora recoiled, shocked, producing the plaster from her pocket in an
instant.

'Little vixen,' he said, half laughing; 'but I was thankful to her for
neither kicking nor struggling!'

'Poor child!' said Honora, 'p