its blue bead eyes. Waife, seated near her, was trying to talk gayly;
to invent fairy tales blithe with sport and fancy: but his invention
flagged, and the fairies prosed awfully. He had placed the dominos
before Sir Isaac, but Sophy had scarcely looked at them, from the
languid heavy eyes on which the doll so stupidly fixed its own. Sir
Isaac himself seemed spiritless; he was aware that something was wrong.
Now and then he got up restlessly, sniffed the dominos, and placed a paw
gently, very gently, on Sophy's knee. Not being encouraged, he lay down
again uneasily, often shifting his position as if the floor was grown
too hard for him. Thus the Mayor found the three. He approached
Sophy with the step of a man accustomed to sick-rooms and ailing
children,--step light as if shod with felt,--put his hand on her
shoulder, kissed her forehead, and then took the doll. Sophy started,
and took it back from him quickly, but without a word; then she hid
it behind her pillow. The Mayor smiled. "My dear child, do you think I
should hurt your doll?"

Sophy coloured and said murmuringly, "No, sir, not hurt it, but--" she
stopped short.

"I have been talking to your grandpapa about you, my dear, and we both
wish to give you a little holiday. Dolls are well enough for the winter,
but green fields and daisy chains for the summer."

Sophy glanced from the Mayor to her grandfather, and back again to the
Mayor, shook her curls from her eyes, and looked seriously inquisitive.

The Mayor, observing her quietly, stole her hand into his own, feeling
the pulse as if merely caressing the slender wrist. Then he began to
describe his bailiff's cottage, with woodbine round the porch, the
farm-yard, the bee-hives, the pretty duck-pond with an osier island, and
the great China gander who had a pompous strut, which made him the droll
est creature possible. And Sophy should go there in a day or two, and
be as happy as one of the bees, but not so busy. Sophy listened very
earnestly, very gravely, and then sliding her hand from the Mayor,
caught hold of her grandfather's arm firmly, and said, "And you,
Grandy,--will you like it? won't it be dull for you, Grandy dear?"

"Why, my darling," said Waife, "I and Sir Isaac will go and take a
stroll about the country for a few weeks, and--"

SOPHY (passionately).--"I thought so; I thought he meant that. I tried
not to believe it; go away,--you? and who's to take care of you? who'll
understand you? I want