"My dear, I shall make this house dull for you. You sit with me like an embodied patience. I am unendurable; I am getting into a melancholy dotage. A fidgety old woman like me is as unpleasant to see as a rook with its wing broken. Don't mind me, my dear. Run away from me without ceremony. Every one else does, you see. I am part of the old furniture with new drapery."
"Dear Mrs Transome," said Esther, gliding to the low ottoman close by the basket of embroidery, "do you dislike my sitting with you?"
"Only for your own sake, my fairy," said Mrs Transome, smiling faintly, and putting her hand under Esther's chin. "Doesn't it make you shudder to look at me?"
"Why will you say such naughty things?" said Esther, affectionately. "If you had had a daughter, she would have desired to be with you most when you most wanted cheering. And surely every young woman has something of a daughter's feeling towards an older one who has been kind to her."
"I should like you to be really my daughter," said Mrs Transome, rousing herself to look a little brighter. "That is something still for an old woman to hope for."
Esther blushed: she had not foreseen this appli-
