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 care! I! I! No, no, it is you,—you who want care. I shall be well to-morrow,—quite well, don't fear. He shall not be sent away from me; he shall not, sir. Oh, Grandfather, Grandfather, how could you?" She flung herself on his breast, clinging there,—clinging as if infancy and age were but parts of the same whole.
"But," said the Mayor, "it is not as if you were going to school, my dear; you are going for a holiday. And your grand-
