" "You're agitating yourself unnecessarily, Joan," returned Wood, in a soothing voice. " "Blessings upon him!" cried Lady Trafford, fervently. ’ There was a silence. There indeed you see Monte Rosa. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. ” “I will tell her,” Anna promised. Still, in spite of her glances and gestures, Mr. Mr. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring.
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