I had realized the extremity of my forlorn state on a Sunday that passed empty of my father, which felt like his having gone for ever.

My nursemaid came in to assist in settling Mrs.Waddy's bonnet above the six crisp curls, and while they were about it I sat quiet, plucking now and then at the brown silk, partly to beg to go with it, partly in jealousy and love at the thought of its seeing him from whom I was so awfully separated.

Mrs.Waddy took fresh kisses off my lips, assuring me that my father would have them in twenty minutes, and I was to sit and count the time.

My nursemaid let her out.

I pretended to be absorbed in counting, till I saw Mrs.Waddy pass by the window.