"To-morrow, Mr.Waife, the same hour.

Now, Lionel, get your hat, and come away." Vance carried off the canvas, and Lionel followed slowly.

Sophy gazed at their departing forms from the open window; Waife stumped about the room, rubbing his hands, "He'll do; he 'll do: I always thought so." Sophy turned: "Who'll do ?--the young gentleman?
Do what ?" WAIFE.-"The young gentleman ?-as if I was thinking of him! Our new companion; I have been with him this last hour.

Wonderful natural gifts." SOPHY (ruefully).--"It is alive, then ?" WAIFE.--"Alive! yes, I should think so." SOPHY (half-crying.)--"I am very sorry; I know I shall hate it." WAIFF.--"Tut, darling: get me my pipe; I'm happy." SOPHY (cutting short her fit of ill-humour).--"Are you?
then I am, and I will not hate it.".