CHAPTER XVIII.

Mother, darling!" The speaker is little Geoff, sitting at his mother's feet, gazing at her with eyes brimming over with love. He is quite a big boy now, for three years have passed by since the morning he came to Vita as her Christmas present, and every day since then he has become dearer to his sweet little mother. Never could be a happier trio than the bright winning boy, the good, patient, devoted wife and mother, and the suffering father; for what Vita failed to do by her gentleness and goodness, God has wrought by the fire of suffering, through which Geoffrey has so nobly passed, and out of which he has come refined and chastened.

Never a murmur of pain escapes from the thin lips that are often drawn tightly together by some sudden spasm of acute agony; never a discontented look is ever seen on the patient, suffering, face. All is peace and gentle submission; ; his eyes follow every movement of

Vita's, and each look is one of pure love and devotion. She is rewarded. She has won her guerdon-his love-every atom, every iota.

He is able, with the help of a stick and Vita's or his little son's shoulder, to stroll about the grounds. They are now sitting under a spreading ash tree on the smooth shaven lawn, when Geoff again repeats his question.

66

Mother darling, are only the wicked miserable." He is just as beautiful as ever, this little son of Vita's; although the long curls have been cut the fair hair will still persist in waving all round the bright boyish face.

"I do not understand you, my darling," says Vita, "the wicked are not always miserable and the good are often unhappy."

66

But, mother, good people arn't always sighing and moping about, are they?"

66

Why are you asking these questions Geoff, and of whom are you thinking?"

"Why, mother, old Jack Morris is always sighing, and the other day when he did not know I was there, I heard him say: 'Eh, me !

but I'd give my right hand not to have done it.' I did not say a word but ran away as quickly as I could. What did he mean, mother?" asks the

boy eagerly.

66

'Nothing, darling! I dare say he had planted something that had turned out badly."

"Geoff, Geoff." In a minute the gardener and his grievance are forgotten, and Geoff is running as quickly as he can to meet his little “Queen.'

"I've tum to pay with 'ou, Geoff;" for in spite of her being three years and a half old, our little Lowis speaks only in a fashion of her own, but all of us can understand her and love the sweet

baby pronounciation, for it helps to counterbalance her precociousness.

"Oh! I am glad come and kiss mother," says Geoff.

The little lady suffers herself to be led across the lawn to kiss her Auntie Vita who, with the rest, joins in spoiling this little girl. "Dood morning, Auntie 'Ita, I've tum to pay with Geoff, he tarnt do widout me."

"No, I'm sure he cannot, my darling; so both of you trot off and have a game."

After wandering for some time, they sit on a fallen tree in the orchard, for a conversation.

"Lowis," asks Geoff, "do you love me?"

66

'Es, a wee droppie," and the blue eyes sparkle with merriment at a prospect of teasing her devoted little playmate.

"Should you be unhappy if I were unhappy, Lowis ?"

Well, I 'spects I should. Why, Geoff?"

"Because I feel unhappy about gardener, Lowis; he's so unhappy."

"Let's do and ask him," says impetuous Lowis, forthwith marching across the garden to where Morris is delving for his daily bread,Dardener, is 'ou unhappy?"

The man starts; he has not heard the small pattering feet, and as he looks at the sweet baby face, feels compelled to speak the truth: Yes, Miss," he answers simply,

"'Ou is! What has 'ou done, dardener? for 'ou've no mumsie or nurse to be naughty to." The tears start to the wretched culprit's eyes as the daughter of her whose life he has sought to make wretched, questions him. "Why don't 'ou say 'ou's sorry, and tiss and mate up."

Geoff, listening in the distance, cannot repress a smile at the thought of any one kissing gardener's dirty face.

"Eh! but I carn't, miss.'

"Tarn't 'ou, dardener; is they so velly nasty. Well, just shut 'oor eyes velly tight and ty hard. It won't be velly bad then, for 'ou tan't see how toss they is wid 'ou. Who is toss wid

'ou, dardener ?

"Your mamma, miss," again he feels compelled to speak the truth.

Well, if 'ou'll tum and tell her I'am sure she'll tiss 'ou and mate 'ou better: she always does me and Geoff. 'Ou'll tum, won't 'ou, dardener?" the little face is held coaxingly to his ; the hard, worn man cannot resist the pleading tone.