sage of any kind, and was quite a
sign of grace.

"It's very kind of Miss Horn," said Tommy, who was still perturbed; "and
of you as well, miss. Perhaps you will see my sister-in-law? She's much
better, and sitting up--and able to converse."

As he spoke, he led the way into the kitchen, in the doorway of which the
young girl once more paused, and looked around in the same bewildered way
as before. But she instantly recovered herself; and, at the invitation of
a woman who was in attendance, proceeded to mount the narrow stairs.

Miss Owen was performing a thoroughly congenial errand. It was her
delight to be, in any way, the instrument of the wide-spread benevolence
and varied Christian ministrations of her beloved employer. Nor was it
an insignificant service which she therein performed. Her tender
companionship had been of scarcely less benefit to the crippled girl than
the almost daily rides which the generosity of "Cobbler" Horn enabled the
poor invalid to enjoy; and her presence and sensible Christian talk were
quite as helpful to Mrs. John Dudgeon, as were the delicacies from Miss
Jemima's kitchen.

John Dudgeon, who was acting as temporary nurse, rose to his feet as the
secretary entered, and stole modestly downstairs. Miss Owen followed him
with her eyes in renewed perplexity. What could it all mean? These dear,
funny little men! Had she known them in a former state of existence, or
what? She came downstairs when she was ready to leave, and in the kitchen
she paused once more. On one side of the fire-place was an old arm-chair
with a leather cushion. Seized with a sudden fancy, Miss Owen addressed
the woman, who was waiting to see her out.

"May I sit in that chair a moment?" she asked.

"Certainly, miss," was the civil reply; and, in another moment, the young
secretary had crossed the room, and seated herself in the chair.

"How strange!" she murmured. "How familiar everything is!"

At that moment, Tommy Dudgeon came in from the shop; and, on seeing Miss
Owen in the old arm-chair, he stopped short, and uttered a cry.

"I beg your pardon, miss; I thought----"

It was in that very chair, standing in exactly the same spot as now, that
little Marian had been accustomed to sit, when she used to come in and
delight the two little bachelors with her quaint sayings, and queen it
over them in her pretty wilful way. For her sake, the old chair had been
carefully preserved.

"You thought I was taking a liberty