gloom began
to lighten directly--though he would not own it, nor relax a single
feature. But the wan ghost in the corner lifted its head to look at her,
and slowly brightened as to something worthy a spirit's love, and a dim
phantom's smiles. Now then, Dr. Renton! the lines are drawn, and the foe
is coming. Be martial, sir, as when you stand in the ranks of the cadets
on training-days! Steady, and stand the charge! So he did. He kept an
inflexible front as she glided toward him, softly, slowly, with her
bright eyes smiling into his, and doing dreadful execution. Then she put
her white arms around his neck, laid her dear, fair head on his breast,
and peered up archly into his stern visage. Spite of himself, he could
not keep the fixed lines on his face from breaking confusedly into a
faint smile. Somehow or other, his hands came from behind him, and
rested on her head. There! That's all. Dr. Renton surrendered at
discretion! One of the solid men of Boston was taken after a desperate
struggle--internal, of course--for he kissed her, and said, "Dear little
Netty!" And so she was.

The phantom watched her with a smile, and wavered and brightened as if
about to glide to her; but it grew still, and remained.

"Pa in the sulks to-night?" she asked, in the most winning, playful,
silvery voice.

"Pa's a fool," he answered in his deep chest-tones, with a vexed good
humor; "and you know it."

"What's the matter with pa? What makes him be a great bear? Papa-sy,
dear," she continued, stroking his face with her little hands, and
patting him, very much as Beauty might have patted the Beast after she
fell in love with him--or, as if he were a great baby. In fact, he began
to look then as if he were.

"Matter? Oh! everything's the matter, little Netty. The world goes round
too fast. My boots pinch. Somebody stole my umbrella last year. And I've
got a headache." He concluded this fanciful abstract of his grievances
by putting his arms around her, and kissing her again. Then he sat down
in the easy-chair, and took her fondly on his knee.

"Pa's got a headache! It is t-o-o bad, so it is," she continued in the
same soothing, winning way, caressing his bold, white brow with her tiny
hands. "It's a horrid shame, so it is! P-o-o-r pa. Where does it ache,
papa-sy, dear? In the forehead? Cerebrum or cerebellum, papa-sy? Occiput
or sinciput, deary?"

"Bah! you little quiz," he replied, laughing and pinching her cheek,
"none of your nonse