"Biddy," said I, when I talked with her after dinner, as her little girl lay sleeping in her lap, "you must give Pip to me one of these days; or lend him, at all events."

     "No, no," said Biddy, gently. "You must marry."

     "So Herbert and Clara say, but I don't think I shall, Biddy. I have so settled down in their home, that it's not at all likely. I am already quite an old bachelor."

     Biddy looked down at her child, and put its little hand to her lips, and then put the good matronly hand with which she had touched it into mine. There was something in the action, and in the light pressure of Biddy's wedding-ring, that had a very pretty eloquence in it.

     "Dear Pip," said Biddy, "you are sure you don't fret for her?"

     "O no,--I think not, Biddy."

     "Tell me as an old, old friend. Have you quite forgotten her?