He would have preferred that she should have been angry with him.
Bebee, left alone, let the clothes drop off her pretty round shoulders and her rosy limbs, and shook out her coils of hair, and kissed the book, and laid it under her head, and went to sleep with a smile on her face.
Only, as she slept, her ringers moved as if she were counting her beads, and her lips murmured,-- "Oh, dear Holy Mother, you have so much to think of--yes.

I know--all the poor, and all the little children.

But take care of _him_; he is called Flamen, and he lives in the street of Mary of Burgundy; you cannot miss him; and if you will look for him always, and have a heed that the angels never leave him, I will give you my great cactus glower--my only one--on your Feast of Roses this very year.

Oh, dear Mother, you will not forget!".