Maria, as usual, had gone to bed, but she was not asleep.

Maria heard his hand on her door-knob, and his voice calling out, softly: "Are you asleep, dear ?" "No," responded Maria.
Then her father entered and approached the child staring at him from her white nest.

The room was full of moonlight, and Maria's face looked like a nucleus of innocence upon which it centred.

Harry leaned over his little daughter and kissed her.
"Father has got something to tell you, precious," he said.
Maria hitched away a little from him, and made no reply.
"Ida, Miss Slome, tells me that she thinks you know, and so I made up my mind I had better tell you, and not wait any longer, although I shall not take any decisive step before--before November.

What would you say if father should bring home a new mother for his little girl, dear ?" "I should say I would rather have Aunt Maria," replied Maria, decisively.