have not quite finished. Since you ask me, my love, I reply that I have not. I complain that you really are a little unnatural towards your own family; and, as it is of no use complaining to you.

I mean to complain to your husband. Now, my dear Doctor, do look at that silly wife of yours.’

As the Doctor turned his kind face, with its smile of simplicity and gentleness, towards her, she drooped her head more. I noticed that Mr. Wickfield looked at her steadily.

‘When I happened to say to that naughty thing, the other day,’ pursued her mother, shaking her head and her fan at her, playfully, ‘that there was a family circumstance she might mention to you — indeed, I think, was bound to mention — she said, that to mention