sofa, and let us have our tea together. I am
glad to find you are as good and sensible as I
took you for."

And this was Alice Wilson's second wooing.

Mr. Openshaw's will was too strong, and
his circumstances too good, for him not
to carry all before him. He settled Mrs.
Wilson in a comfortable house of her own,
and made her quite independent of lodgers.
The little that Alice said with regard to
future plans was in Norah'a behalf.

"No," said Mr. Openshaw. "Norah shall
take care of the old lady as long as she lives;
and, after that, she shall either come and
live with us, or, if she likes it better, she
shall have a provision for life for your
sake, missus. No one who has been good to
you or the child shall go unrewarded.
But even the little one will be better for
some fresh stuff about her. Get her a bright,
sensible girl as a nurse: one who won't go
rubbing her with calf's-foot jelly as Norah
does; wasting good stuff outside that ought
to go in, but will follow doctors' directions;
which, as you must see pretty clearly by this
time, Norah won't; because they give the
poor little wench pain. Now, I'm not above
being nesh for other folks myself. I can
stand a good blow, and never change colour;
but, set me in the operating-room in the
infirmary, and I turn as sick as a girl. Yet,
if need were, I would hold the little wench
on my knees while she screeched with pain,
if it were to do her poor back good. Nay,
nay, wench! keep your white looks for the
time when it comes—I don't say it ever will.
But this I know, Norah will spare the child
and cheat the doctor if she can. Now, I say,
give the bairn a year or two's chance, and
then, when the pack of doctors have done
their best—and, maybe, the old lady has
gone—we'll have Norah back, or do better
for her."

The pack of doctors could do no good to
little Ailsie. She was beyond their power. But
her father (for so he insisted on being called,
and also on Alice's no longer retaining the
appellation of Mama, but becoming
henceforward Mother) , by his healthy cheerfulness
of manner, his clear decision of purpose, his
odd turns and quirks of humour, added to
his real strong love for the helpless little
girl, infused a new element of brightness and
confidence into her life; and, though her
back remained the same, her general health
was strengthened, and Alice—never going
beyond a smile herself—had the pleasure of
seeding her child taught to laugh.

As for Alice's own life, it was happier
than it had ever been. Mr. Openshaw
required no demonstration, no expressions of
affection from her. Indeed, these would
rather have disgusted him. Alice could
love deeply, but could not talk about it.
The perpetual requirement of loving word,
looks, and caresses, and misconstruing their
absence into absence of love, had been the
great trial of her former married life, Now,
all went on clear and straight, under the
guidance of her husband's strong sense, warm
heart, and powerful will. Year by year
their worldly prosperity increased. At Mrs.
Wilson's death, Norah came back to them,
as nurse to the newly-born little Edwin;
into which post she was not installed with-
out a pretty strong oration on the part of
the proud and happy father; who declared
that if he found out that Norah ever tried
to screen the boy by a falsehood, or to
make him nesh either in body or mind,
she should go that very day. Norah
and Mr. Openshaw were not on the most
thoroughly cordial terms; neither of them
fully recognising or appreciationg the other's
best qualities.

This was the previous history of the
Lancashire family who had now removed
to London, and had come to occupy the
House.

They had been there about a year, when
Mr. Openshaw suddenly informed his wife that
he had determined to heal long-standing feuds,
and had asked his uncle and aunt Chadwick
to come and pay them a visit and see London.
Mrs. Openshaw had never seen this uncle and
aunt of her husband's. Years before she
had married him, there had been a quarrel.
All she knew was, that Mr. Chadwick was
a small manufacturer in a country town
in South Lancashire. She was extremely
pleased that the breach was to be healed,
and began making preparations to render
their visit pleasant.

They arrived at last. Going to see London
was such an event to them, that Mrs.
Chadwick had made all new linen fresh for the
occasion from night-caps downwards; and,
as for gowns, ribbons, and collars, she
might have been going into the wilds of
Canada where never a shop is, so large was
her stock. A fortnight before the day of her
departure for London, she had formally
called to take leave of all her acquaintance;
saying she should need all the intermediate
time for packing up. It was like a second
wedding in her imagination; and, to complete
the resemblance which an entirely new wardrobe
made between the two events, her husband
brought her back from Manchester, on
the last market-day before they set off, a
gorgeous pearl and amethyst brooch, saying,
" Lunnon should see that Lancashire folks
knew a handsome thing when they saw it."

For some time after Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick
arrived at the Openshaws', there was no
opportunity for wearing this brooch; but at
length they obtained an order to see
Buckingham Palace, and the spirit of loyalty
demanded that Mrs. Chadwick should wear
her best clothes in visiting the abode of her
sovereign. On her return, she hastily changed
her dress; for Mr.Openshaw had planned
that they should go to Richmond, drink tea
and return by moonlight. Accordingly, about