quite uncomfortable if I thought you were
dissatisfied. And, of course, you are such a judge
of tuition! But, you see, I was obliged to
decide, for Mrs. Welling could only give me
three days, and at the very last moment I
wrote and said the child should go."

"Pray don't apologise, Mrs. Stalman," said
Edward, half laughing, "for disposing of your
own child. Little folks must learn to spell, I
suppose."

He did not look at all happy, however, and
W. Payne Shepherd's report coming under his
consideration, received no mercy.

CHAPTER III.

"PRINGLESON! You in an omnibus! I
thought you would as soon have thought of
wearing a wide-awake in London, as foregoing
your Saturday afternoon's walk."

The omnibus was going past the Temple gate,
and the speaker had emerged from that portal,
and now took a seat beside his friend.

"Ah!" answered Mr. Pringleson, "I have
been doing a more extraordinary thing than
riding in an omnibus. What do you think of
my having been to take stalls for this new piece
at the Lyceum?"

"My dear Pringleson! Have you come into
a fortune?"

"No," said Mr. Pringleson, with rather a
perplexed look, out into Chancery-lane, up
which they were passing; "but my landlady's
daughter has just come home for good, and I am
redeeming an old promise. It feels rather odd,
though."

"Oh! You are getting a young fellow at
last! It really is time you gave way to a
little rashness. Why, dear me, I can remember
when you first went to Duke's College, and
had those boys in one of the low classes, you
were like a fellow of fifty-five. Yet you couldn't
have been very old, for I consider you a young
man now."

"Ah, my dear fellow! I met a man to-day
who made me feel rather old, though. At
that very time you speak of, there was a boy
in my class named Shepherd—a lazy young
dog, too, who gave me endless trouble. Well,
a card was brought to me as I was preparing
to leave this afternoon, with 'Mr. W. Payne
Shepherd' on it, and in came this identical
fellow. I shouldn't have known him. He has
shot up far above me—and I am not a short
man—and has a great moustache with long
waxed points to it; a thing I hate. He was
exceedingly civil, but he had not been talking
to me three minutes before I should have liked
to box his ears. Odd antipathies one takes, to
be sure!"

When Mr. Pringleson sat by the fire
opposite Mrs. Stalman, waiting for dinner that evening,
he forgot his odd antipathies; and the
look of loving pride which overspread the
mother's face was reflected in his as they both
watched Laura.

Her tall straight figure looked wonderfully
graceful as she stood with her back to them
before a pier-glass, trying the effect of a rose in
her hair. Edward watched the hands that he
knew so well. But they did not work
altogether to their owner's satisfaction. He could
see the reflexion of the face, with its distressed
eyes and knitted brows, and in a few moments
there was the unmistakable sound of a very
small stamp.

"Bother!" she exclaimed deliberately, and
then turning round with a defiant look, as if
she dared remonstrance, said, "Mamma dear, I
really can not make this thing do."

"Well, darling, put it away then," said
indulgent mamma.

"Yes, dear; but what am I to say to dear
old Price?"

Mamma, as usual, looked in an agony of
doubt at this question; and, also as usual,
referred to Edward.

"Poor Eliza Price gave her the rose, Mr.
Pringleson, and it would be dreadful to hurt
her feelings?"

"Well, Laura," answered the umpire, " it
resolves itself into a question between your
appearance and Miss Price's feelings; doesn't
it?"

Laura blushed, and hurrying up to the looking-
glass, desperately put the rose in her hair.
Then she came and sat down on a low chair
between her mother and friend. This last could
not help reflecting that the misfitting rose did
not prevent Laura from looking very lovely.
Passing his hand over his forehead, which was
getting bald now-a-days, he breathed a long
sigh.

When they were seated in the theatre,
Laura's absorption was complete, nor did her
mother often take her eyes from the stage. The
play was Ruy Blas, and at the most important
points of the story, Laura's excitement was so
great that she could not refrain from clutching
Edward's arm. She was drinking in every
word of the scene between Ruy Blas and the
Queen in the council-chamber, when Edward,
who had been fidgeting for some time, spoke
in an energetic whisper:

"You had much better contrive to sit
sideways, Laura. There is a current of air from
the door, and if you can manage to inhale a
little of it, it may correct this abominable
atmosphere."

The idea of thinking of atmosphere or health
when such much graver interests were at stake
on the stage! Laura decidedly shifted her arm
away from the entreating hand which had been
laid on it, and looked hard at the stage with a
very obstinate expression. When the act was
over, Mr. Pringleson took a walk about the
house to cool both body and mind. In the
course of this walk he encountered one of the
few friends he had preserved from early days:
Mr. Goldridge, Q.C. Mr. Goldridge had lately
married, as his second wife, a young lady under
twenty. He insisted upon presenting Mr.
Pringleson to his bride, who was in a private
box. She had attracted considerable attention
during the evening, and, from her elaborate
toilet and tortured hair, Edward Pringleson had