It is something to see the Pope serving the Pilgrims their dinner, during the Holy Week at Rome.

Even that astounding sight, however, fades into nothing, as compared with the sublimer spectacle of Mr.Vance waiting upon Mrs.Peckover.
The rector, who was a sharp observer in his own quiet, unobtrusive way, was struck by two peculiarities in little Mary's behavior during lunch.
In the first place, he remarked with some interest and astonishment, that while the clown's wife was, not unnaturally, very shy and embarrassed in her present position, among strangers who were greatly her social superiors, little Mary had maintained her self-possession, and had unconsciously adapted herself to her new sphere from the moment when she first entered the dining-room.

In the second place, he observed that she constantly nestled close to Valentine; looked at him oftener than she looked at any one else; and seemed to be always trying, sometimes not unsuccessfully, to guess what he was saying to others by watching his expression, his manner, and the action of his lips.

"That child's character is no common one," thought Doctor Joyce; "she is older at heart than she looks; and is almost as fond of Blyth already as he is of her." When lunch was over, the eldest Miss Joyce whispered a petition in her mother's ear, "May Carry and I take the dear little girl out with us to see our gardens, mamma ?" "Certainly, my love, if she likes to go.

You had better ask her--Ah, dear! dear! I forgot--I mean, write on her slate.