in spite of her presence, forget her and himself in that most captivating of all juvenile classics, Robinson Crusoe, she drew her chair up to her mother, and they communicated reciprocally their little affairs, both generously softening or omitting what was most painful. In answer to Lucy's question, "Are you ever troubled now, mother, to get the bread money?" Mrs. Lee answered, "Now and then; but Charlie Lovett leaves the loaf the same when I have not as when I have the money. Oh, Lucy, I have not told you his mother has been to see me. She was very kind. She looks like Charlie; the same open, benevolent expression. She brought cookeys to the children, and told me her husband would watch with your father. How pleasant it was to hear a friendly voice once more! She asked about you, Lucy."
"About me, mother?
"Yes. It seems Charlie had told her about you. She said if she had known you wanted a place, she would have taken you."
"Would she! Oh, how I should like to live with Charlie's mother."
"On some accounts I should wish to have you there; but, as she keeps but one domestic, there might be too heavy work for you—and you really seem to be very well off with Mrs. Ardley. You complain of nothing but your disappointment in not coming home at the promised time?"
"No, mother—no," said Lucy, persevering in her resolve not to disturb her mother with her little grievances, and really feeling them to be very small while she looked at her, gently submitting to a tide of troubles, and resisting where she could
