of tears—"don't cry, my dear;" and lifting the child up, he drew her to him, while she sobbed on his bosom. "What makes you cry now?"
"Why, Jemmy Brady came in the room last evening, when grandmother was getting your supper ready, and he said something to me which made me think of my mother, and I have been all the morning thinking of her, and of all that she said and did."
"Well, what did this Jemmy Brady say to you that has troubled you so much?" But Norah would not tell. She said it was no matter now, she should not cry again; for she was sure he was good-natured.
It was a new thing for Mr. Price to be soothing a crying child—he kept referring to it himself—but Norah advanced in his good graces, and by the time Mrs. M'Curdy returned, he was laughing aloud at some of her childish remarks. Norah too, was very much pleased with Mr. Price; her bright blue eye seemed to watch every motion of his, and at length he really felt a want, a restlessness whenever the child was called out of the room.
A week still found Mr. Price sitting in the widow M'Curdy's arm chair, and little Norah at his side. A sprained ankle, every one knows, requires time and quiet and an outstretched limb, but above all, a tranquil mind. He had time, for he was rich; and where on earth, thought he, could I be so quiet as in this neat little room. Friction was now necessary, and who could rub his leg so tenderly as the dear little girl; then her prattle was delightful. He had never been much among children; he once had a son, but an indulgent mother ruined him. His child from boy to manhood had been a constant source of disquiet and misery to him, and he had three years before this period, followed him to the grave. He thought that no child could ever again
