`All right, Missus,' the man replied, turning away with the jug in his hand. `Let's just mak sure it's good measure.' He went back among his shelves of milk-bowls, carefully keeping his back towards her while he emptied a little measure of cream into the jug, muttering to himself `mebbe it'll hearten her up a bit, the little lassie!'

The woman never noticed the kind deed, but took back the jug with a simple `Good evening, Master', and went her way: but the children had been more observant, and, as we followed her out, Bruno remarked `That were welly kind: and I loves that man: and if I was welly rich I'd give him a hundred pounds--and a bun. That little grummeling dog doosn't know its business!' He referred to the dairyman's little dog, who had apparently quite forgotten the affectionate welcome he had given us on our arrival, and was now following at a respectful distance, doing his best to `speed the parting guest' with a shower of little shrill barks, that seemed to tread on one an other's heels.

`What is a dog's business?' laughed Sylvie. `Dogs ca'n't keep shops and give change!'

`Sisters' business isn't to laugh at their brothers,' Bruno replied with perfect gravity. `And dogs' businesses is to bark--not like that: it should finish one bark before it begins another: and it should--Oh Sylvie, there's some dindledums!'

And in another moment the happy children were flying across the common, racing for the patch of dandelions.

While I stood watching them, a strange dreamy feeling came upon me: a railway-platform seemed to take the place of the green sward, and, instead of the light figure of Sylvie bounding along, I seemed to see the flying form of Lady Muriel; but whether Bruno had also undergone a transformation, and had become the old man whom she was running to overtake, I was unable to judge, so instantaneously did the feeling come and go.

When I re-entered the little sitting-room which I shared with Arthur, he was standing with his back to me, looking out of the open window, and evidently had not heard me enter. A cup of tea, apparently just tasted and pushed aside, stood on the table, on the opposite side of which was a letter, just begun, with the pen lying across it: an open book lay on the sofa: the London paper occupied the easy chair; and on the little table which stood by it, I noticed an unlighted cigar and an open box of cigar-lights: all things betokened that the Doctor, usually so methodical and so self-contained, had been trying every form of occupation, and could settle to none!

`This is very unlike you, Doctor!' I was beginning, but checked myself, as he turned at the sound of my voice, in sheer amazement at the wonderful change that had taken place in his appearance. Never had I seen a face so radiant with happiness, or eyes that sparkled with such unearthly light! `Even thus,' I thought, `must the herald-angel have looked, who brought to the shepherds, watching over their flocks by night, that sweet message of "peace on earth, good-will to men"!'

`Yes, dear friend!' he said, as if in answer to the question that I suppose he read in my face. `It is true! It is true!'

No need to ask what was true. `God bless you both!' I said, as I felt the happy tears brimming to my eyes. `You were made for each other!'

`Yes,' he said, simply, `I believe we were. And what a change it makes in one's Life! This isn't the same world! That isn't the sky I saw yesterday! Those clouds--I never saw such clouds in all my life before! They look like troops of hovering angels!'

To me they looked very ordinary clouds indeed: but then I had not fed `on honeydew, And drunk the milk of Paradise'!