"Who was he, mother? Tell me?"

"Who, my darling? No one is here. You
have been dreaming love. Waken up quite.
See, it is broad daylight."

"Yes," said Ailsie, looking round her; then
clinging to her mother, said, "but a man
was here in the night, mother."

"Nonsense, little goose. No man has ever
come near you!"

"Yes, he did. He stood there. Just by
Norah. A man with hair and a beard. And
he knelt down and said his prayers. Norah
knows he was here, mother " (half angrily, as
Mrs. Openshaw shook her head in smiling
incredulity).

"Well! we will ask Norah when she
comes," said Mrs. Openshaw, soothingly.
"But we won't talk any more about him
now. It is not five o'clock; it is too early for
you to get up. Shall I fetch you a book and
read to you?"

"Don't leave me, mother," said the child,
clinging to her. So Mrs. Openshaw sate on the
bedside talking to Ailsie, and telling her of
what they had done at Richmond the evening
before, until the little girl's eyes slowly
closed and she once more fell asleep.

"What was the matter? " asked Mr.
Openshaw, as his wife returned to bed.

"Ailsie, wakened up in a fright, with some
story of a man having been in the room to
say his prayers,—a dream, I suppose." And
no more was said at the time.

Mrs. Openshaw had almost forgotten the
whole affair when she got up about seven
o'clock. But, bye-and-bye, she heard a sharp
altercation going on in the nursery. Norah
speaking angrily to Ailsie, a most unusual
thing. Both Mr. and Mrs. Openshaw listened
in astonishment.

"Hold your tongue, Ailsie! let me hear
none of your dreams; never let me hear you
tell that story again! " Ailsie began to cry.

Mr. Openshaw opened the door of
communication before his wife could say a
word.

"Norah, come here!"

The nurse stood at the door, defiant.
She perceived she had been heard, but she
was desperate.

"Don't let me hear you speak in that
manner to Ailsie again," he said sternly, and
shut the door.

Norah was infinitely relieved; for she had
dreaded some questioning; and a little blame
for sharp speaking was what she could well
bear, if cross examination was let alone.

Down-stairs they went, Mr. Openshaw
carrying Ailsie; the sturdy Edwin coming
step by step, right foot foremost, always holding
his mother's hand. Each child was
placed in a chair by the breakfast-table, and
then Mr. and Mrs. Openshaw stood together
at the window, awaiting their visitors'
appearance and making plans for the day.
There was a pause. Suddenly Mr. Openshaw
turned to Ailsie, and said:

"What a little goosy somebody is with
her dreams, waking up poor, tired
mother in the middle of the night with a
story of a man being in the room.'

"Father! I'm sure I saw him," said Ailsie,
half crying. " I don't want to make Norah
angry; but I was not asleep, for all she says
I was. I had been asleep, and I awakened
up quite wide awake though I was so
frightened. I kept my eyes nearly shut, and I saw
the man quite plain. A great brown man with
a beard. He said his prayers. And then he
looked at Edwin. And then Norah took him
by the arm and led him away, after they had
whispered a bit together."

"Now, my little woman must be reasonable,"
said Mr. Openshaw, who was always
patient with Ailsie. " There was no man in
the house last night at all. No man comes into
the house as you know, if you think; much
less goes up into the nursery. But sometimes
we dream something has happened, and the
dream is so like reality, that you are not the
tirst person, little woman, who has stood out
that the thing has really happened."

"But, indeed it was not a dream! " said
Ailsie beginning to cry.

Just then Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick came
down, looking grave and discomposed. All
during breakfast time they were silent and
uncomfortable. As soon as the breakfast
things were taken away, and the children
had been carried up-stairs, Mr. Chadwick
began in an evidently preconcerted manner
to inquire if his nephew was certain that
all his servants were honest; for, that
Mrs. Chadwick had that morning missed a
very valuable brooch, which she had worn
the day before. She remembered taking it
off when she came home from Buckingham
Palace. Mr. Openshaw's face contracted into
hard lines: grew like what it was before he
had known his wife and her child. He rang
the bell even before his uncle had done speaking.
It was answered by the housemaid.

"Mary, was any one here last night while
we were away?"

"A man, sir, came to speak to Norah."

"To speak to Norah! Who was he? How
long did he stay?"

' I'm sure 1 can't tell, sir. He came—
perhaps about nine. I went up to tell Norah
iu the nursery, and she came down to speak
to him. She let him out, sir. She will know
who he was, and how long he stayed."

She waited a moment to be asked any
more questions, but she was not, so she went
away.

A minute afterwards Openshaw made as
though he were going out of the room; but
his wife laid her hand on his arm:

"Do not speak to her before the children,"
she said, in her low quiet, voice. " I will go
up and question her."

"No! I must speak to her. You must
know," said he, turning to his uncle and
aunt, "my missus has an old servant, as