rumpet fine,
And a rocking-horse for me,
And a bucket and a spade, mother,
To dig beside the sea."

"But where shall I buy these pretty things?"
The mother's heart inquires.
"Oh, go to Owens!" cried the babe;
"They are the largest buyers."_

The subject of our last selection is "Melton Mowbray," which bore
beneath its title due apologies to Mr. Swinburne:--

_"Strange pie, that is almost a passion,
O passion immoral, for pie!
Unknown are the ways that they fashion,
Unknown and unseen of the eye,
The pie that is marbled and mottled,
The pie that digests with a sigh:
For all is not Bass that is bottled,
And all is not pork that is pie."_

Of all the goodness else that Henry and Angel were to owe in future days
to Mr. Fairfax, there is not room in this book to write. But that
matters little, for is it not written in the Book of Love?

CHAPTER XLIII

STILL ANOTHER CALLER

One afternoon the step coming along the corridor was almost light enough
to be Angel's, though a lover's ear told him that hers it was not. Once
more that feminine rustle, the very whisper of romantic mystery; again
the little feminine knock.

Daintiness and Myrtilla!

"Well, this is lovely of you, Myrtilla! But what courage! How did you
ever dare venture into this wild and savage spot,--this
mountain-fastness of Bohemia?"

"Yes, it was brave of me, wasn't it?" said Myrtilla, with a little
laugh, for which the stairs had hardly left her breath. "But what a
climb! It is like having your rooms on the Matterhorn. I think I must
write a magazine article: 'How I climbed the fifty-thousand stairs,'
with illustrations,--and we could have some quite pretty ones," she
said, looking round the room.

"That big skylight is splendid! As close, dear lad, to the stars as you
can get it? Are you as devoted to them as ever?"

"Aren't you, Myrtilla?"

"Oh, yes; but they don't get any nearer, you know."

"It's awfully good to see you again, Myrtilla," said Henry, going over
to her and taking both her hands. "It's quite a long time, you know,
since we had a talk. It was a sweet thought of you to come. You'll have
some tea, won't you?"

"Yes, I should love to see you make tea. Bachelors always make such good
tea. What pretty cups! My word, we are dainty! I suppose it was Esther
bought them for you?"

Henry detected the little trap and smiled. No, it had