elaide's reply, made in
the form of an interrogation and with arched eyebrows.

"Fina is like the discontented little squirrel who was never happy,"
said Josephine, patting the plump little hand that still meandered
through the depths of Edgar's beard.

"I am happy with you, Missy Joseph," pouted Fina; "and you," to Edgar,
whom she again lifted up her face to kiss, kisses and sweeties being
her twin circumstances of Paradise.

"And with sister Leam: say 'With Leam,' else I will not kiss you,"
said Edgar, holding her off.

She struggled, half laughing, half minded to cry. "I want to kiss
you," she cried.

"Say 'With Leam,' and then I will," said Edgar.

The child's face flushed a deeper crimson, her struggles became more
earnest, more vicious, and her laugh lost itself in the puckered
preface of tears.

"Don't make her cry because she will not tell a falsehood,"
remonstrated Adelaide quietly.

"She does not like me. Saying that she does would not be true, and
would not make her," added Leam just as quietly and with a kind of
hopeless acceptance of undeserved obloquy.

On which Edgar, not wishing to prolong a scene that began to be
undignified, released the child, who scrambled back to Josephine's
lap and hid her flushed and disordered little face on the comfortable
bosom made by Nature for the special service of discomposed childhood.

"She is right to like you best," said Leam, associating Edgar as the
brother with Josephine's generous substitution of maternity.

"I don't think so. You are the one she should love--who deserves her
love," he answered emphatically.

"Come, Joseph," cried Adelaide. "If these two are going to bandy
compliments, you and I are not wanted."

"Don't go, Adelaide: I have worlds yet to say to you," said Edgar.

"Thanks! another time. I do not like to see things of which I
disapprove," was her answer, touching her ponies gently and moving
away slowly.

When she had drawn off out of earshot she beckoned Edgar with her
whip. It was impolitic, but she was too deeply moved to make accurate
calculations. "Dear Edgar, do not be offended with me," she said
in her noblest, most sisterly manner. "Of course I do not wish to
interfere, and it is no business of mine, but is it right to fool that
unhappy girl as you are doing? I put it to you, as one woman anxious
for the happiness and reputation of another--as an old friend who
values you too much to see you make the mistake you are making