But not today. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. She was making it up. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. " "Very well. There is the key. “I am one who controls most of the Church, dear. ” “NEVER!” Her heart sank at the change in his expression. Wood dandled his little charge to and fro, after the most approved nursery fashion, essaying at the same time the soothing influence of an infantine melody proper to the occasion; but, failing in his design, he soon lost all patience, and being, as we have before hinted, rather irritable, though extremely well-meaning, he lifted the unhappy bantling in the air, and shook him with so much good will, that he had well-nigh silenced him most effectually. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. Was he really awake? The arrival and departure of this strange father lacked the essential human touch to make it real. I too can see it. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. “Happened! Oh, many things,” she declared indolently.
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