darling father about it when I
see him; I'm sure he'll forgive me, more particular when he knows the
whole thing was only a fever dream--for there's not any room in this
house like that, is there, Connie."

"Yes, but there be," thought Connie. But she did not say so aloud.

That night Ronald slept as peacefully as though he were really back
again with his father. But Connie lay awake. Anxious as she had been
before Ronald's arrival, that state of things was nothing at all to her
present anxiety.

The next day was Sunday, and if it had not been for Big Ben the two poor
children would have had a most miserable time, for they were shut up in
Mrs. Warren's room from morning till night. In vain they begged to be
allowed to go out. Mrs. Warren said "No," and in so emphatic a manner
that they did not dare to ask her twice.

Agnes did not come at all to the house on Sunday, and Connie and Ronald
finally curled themselves up in the deep window-ledge, and Connie talked
and told Ronald all about her past life. In particular she told him
about Big Ben, and little Giles, and the wonderful, most wonderful
"Woice." After that the children had a sort of play together, in which
Ronald proved himself to be a most imaginative little person, for he
invented many fresh stories with regard to Big Ben, assuring Connie that
he was much more than a voice. He would not be at all surprised, he said
if Big Ben was not a great angel who came straight down from heaven
every hour to comfort the sorrowful people in Westminster. Ronald
thought it extremely likely that this wonderful angel knew his own
mother, and was on this special Sunday telling him to be a brave boy and
keep up his heart, for most certainly he would be safe back with his
father before another Sunday came.

"That's what he says," continued Ronald, "and that's what'll happen,
you'll see, Connie. And when darling father comes here you shall come
away too, for I won't leave you alone with Mammy Warren. She's not a
real kind person, is she, Connie?"

"Don't ax me," said Connie. Ronald looked up into her face.

"You can't tell a lie at all well," he said. "You're trying to make me
think that Mammy Warren's nice, but you're not doing it well, for I
don't believe you."

Then the big clock once again tolled the hour, and Ronald laughed with
glee.

"There's no doubt about it now," he said. "Father _is_ coming, and very,
very soon. Oh I am glad, and happy!"

During that Sunday th