ngle word of what I've got
to say. Well, you see, ma'am, Doctor Joyce--"

"How is he?" interrupted Valentine, handing Mrs. Peckover a cup of tea.

"He's the best gentleman in the world, sir, but he will have his glass
of port after dinner; and the end of it is, he's laid up again with the
gout."

"And Mrs. Joyce?"

"Laid up too, sir--it's a dreadful sick house at the Rectory--laid up
with the inferlenzer."

"Have any of the children caught the influenza too?" asked Mrs. Blyth.
"I hope not."

"No, ma'am, they're all nicely, except the youngest; and it's on account
of her--don't you remember her, sir, growing so fast, when you was last
at the Rectory?--that I'm up in London.

"Is the child ill?" asked Valentine anxiously. "She's such a picturesque
little creature, Lavvie! I long to paint her."

"I'm afraid, sir, she's not fit to be put into a picter now," said Mrs.
Peckover. "Mrs. Joyce is in sad trouble about her, because of one of her
shoulders which has growed out somehow. The doctor at Rubbleford don't
doubt but what it may be got right again; but he said she ought to be
shown to some great London doctor as soon as possible. So, neither her
papa nor her mamma being able to take her up to her aunt's house, they
trusted her to me. As you know, sir, ever since Doctor Joyce got my
husband that situation at Rubbleford, I've been about the Rectory,
helping with the children and the housekeeping, and all that:--and Miss
Lucy being used to me, we come along together in the railroad quite
pleasant and comfortable. I was glad enough, you may be sure, of the
chance of getting here, after not having seen little Mary for so long.
So I just left Miss Lucy at her aunt's, where they were very kind,
and wanted me to stop all night. But I told them that, thanks to your
goodness, I always had a bed here when I was in London; and I took the
cab on, after seeing the little girl safe and comfortable up-stairs.
That's the whole story of how I come to surprise you in this way,
ma'am,--and now I'll finish my tea."

Having got to the bottom of her cup, and to the end of a muffin
amorously presented to her by the incorrigible Zack, Mrs. Peckover had
leisure to turn again to Madonna; who, having relieved her of her bonnet
and shawl, was now sitting close at her side.

"I didn't think she was looking quite so well as usual, when I first
come in," said Mrs. Peckover, patting the girl's cheek with her chubby
fingers; "but she seems to