It was a strange condition of things, the honeymoon being over, and thebridesmaids gone home, when I found myself sitting down in my ownsmall house with Dora; quite thrown out of employment, as I may say, inrespect of the delicious old occupation of making love.

It seemed such an extraordinary thing to have Dora always there. It wasso unaccountable not to be obliged to go out to see her, not to have anyoccasion to be tormenting myself about her, not to have to write to her,not to be scheming and devising opportunities of being alone with her.Sometimes of an evening, when I looked up from my writing, and saw herseated opposite, I would lean back in my chair, and think how queer itwas that there we were, alone together as a matter of course--nobody'sbusiness any more--all the romance of our engagement put away upon ashelf, to rust--no one to please but one another--one another to please,for life.

When there was a debate, and I was kept out very late, it seemed sostrange to me, as I was walking home, to think that Dora was at home! Itwas such a wonderful thing, at first, to have her coming softly down totalk to me as I ate my supper. It was such a stupendous thing to knowfor certain that she put her hair in papers. It was altogether such anastonishing event to see her do it!

I doubt whether two young birds could have known less about keepinghouse, than I and my pretty Dora did. We had a servant, of course. Shekept house for us. I have still a latent belief that she must have beenMrs. Crupp's daughter in disguise, we had such an awful time of it withMary Anne.

Her name was Paragon. Her nature was represented to us, when we engagedher, as being feebly expressed in her name. She had a written character,as large as a proclamation; and, according to this document, could doeverything of a domestic nature that ever I heard of, and a great manythings that I never did hear of. She was a woman in the prime of life;of a severe countenance; and subject (particularly in the arms) toa sort of perpetual measles or fiery rash. She had a cousin in theLife-Guards, with such long legs that he looked like the afternoonshadow of somebody else. His shell-jacket was as much too little for himas he was too big for the premises. He made the cottage smaller than itneed have been, by being so very much out of proportion to it. Besideswhich, the walls were not thick, and, whenever he passed the evening atour house, we always knew of it by hearing one continual growl in thekitchen.

Our treasure was warranted sober and honest. I am therefore willing tobelieve that she was in a fit when we found her under the boiler; andthat the deficient tea-spoons were attributable to the dustman.

But she preyed upon our minds dreadfully. We felt our inexperience, andwere unable to help ourselves. We should have been at her mercy, if shehad had any; but she was a remorseless woman, and had none. She was thecause of our first little quarrel.

'My dearest life,' I said one day to Dora, 'do you think Mary Anne hasany idea of time?'

'Why, Doady?' inquired Dora, looking up, innocently, from her drawing.

'My love, because it's five, and we were to have dined at four.'

Dora glanced wistfully at the clock, and hinted that she thought it wastoo fast.

'On the contrary, my love,' said I, referring to my watch, 'it's a fewminutes too slow.'

My little wife came and sat upon my knee, to coax me to be quiet, anddrew a line with her pencil down the middle of my nose; but I couldn'tdine off that, though it was very agreeable.

'Don't you think, my dear,' said I, 'it would be better for you toremonstrate with Mary Anne?'

'Oh no, please! I couldn't, Doady!' said Dora.

'Why not, my love?' I gently asked.

'Oh, because I am such a little goose,' said Dora, 'and she knows I am!'

I thought this sentiment so incompatible with the establishment of anysystem of check on Mary Anne, that I frowned a little.

'Oh, what ugly wrinkles in my bad boy's forehead!' said Dora, and stillbeing on my knee, she traced them with her pencil; putting it to herrosy lips to make it mark blacker, and working at my forehead with aquaint little mockery of being industrious, that quite delighted me inspite of myself.

'There's a good child,' said Dora, 'it makes its face so much prettierto laugh.' 'But, my love,' said I.

'No, no! please!' cried Dora, with a kiss, 'don't be a naughty BlueBeard! Don't be serious!'

'My precious wife,' said I, 'we must be serious sometimes. Come! Sitdown on this chair, close beside me! Give me the pencil! There! Now letus talk sensibly. You know, dear'; what a little hand it was to hold,and what a tiny wedding-ring it was to see! 'You know, my love, it isnot exactly comfortable to have to go out without one's dinner. Now, isit?'

'N-n-no!' replied Dora, faintly.

'My love, how you tremble!'

'Because I KNOW you're going to scold me,' exclaimed Dora, in a piteousvoice.

'My sweet, I am only going to reason.'

'Oh, but reasoning is worse than scolding!' exclaimed Dora, in despair.'I didn't marry to be reasoned with. If you meant to reason with such apoor little thing as I am, you ought to have told me so, you cruel boy!'

I tried to pacify Dora, but she turned away her face, and shook hercurls from side to side, and said, 'You cruel, cruel boy!' so manytimes, that I really did not exactly know what to do: so I took a fewturns up and down the room in my uncertainty, and came back again.

'Dora, my darling!'

'No, I am not your darling. Because you must be sorry that you marriedme, or else you wouldn't reason with me!' returned Dora.

I felt so injured by the inconsequential nature of this charge, that itgave me courage to be grave.

'Now, my own Dora,' said I, 'you are very childish, and are talkingnonsense. You must remember, I am sure, that I was obliged to go outyesterday when dinner was half over; and that, the day before, I wasmade quite unwell by being obliged to eat underdone veal in a hurry;today, I don't dine at all--and I am afraid to say how long we waitedfor breakfast--and then the water didn't boil. I don't mean to reproachyou, my dear, but this is not comfortable.'

'Oh, you cruel, cruel boy, to say I am a disagreeable wife!' cried Dora.

'Now, my dear Dora, you must know that I never said that!'

'You said, I wasn't comfortable!' cried Dora. 'I said the housekeepingwas not comfortable!'

'It's exactly the same thing!' cried Dora. And she evidently thought so,for she wept most grievously.

I took another turn across the room, full of love for my pretty wife,and distracted by self-accusatory inclinations to knock my head againstthe door. I sat down again, and said:

'I am not blaming you, Dora. We have both a great deal to learn. I amonly trying to show you, my dear, that you must--you really must' (Iwas resolved not to give this up)--'accustom yourself to look after MaryAnne. Likewise to act a little for yourself, and me.'

'I wonder, I do, at your making such ungrateful speeches,' sobbed Dora.'When you know that the other day, when you said you would like a littlebit of fish, I went out myself, miles and miles, and ordered it, tosurprise you.'

'And it was very kind of you, my own darling,' said I. 'I felt it somuch that I wouldn't on any account have even mentioned that youbought a Salmon--which was too much for two. Or that it cost one poundsix--which was more than we can afford.'

'You enjoyed it very much,' sobbed Dora. 'And you said I was a Mouse.'

'And I'll say so again, my love,' I returned, 'a thousand times!'

But I had wounded Dora's soft little heart, and she was not to becomforted. She was so pathetic in her sobbing and bewailing, that I feltas if I had said I don't know what to hurt her. I was obliged to hurryaway; I was kept out late; and I felt all night such pangs of remorse asmade me miserable. I had the conscience of an assassin, and was hauntedby a vague sense of enormous wickedness.

It was two or three hours past midnight when I got home. I found myaunt, in our house, sitting up for me.

'Is anything the matter, aunt?' said I, alarmed.

'Nothing, Trot,' she replied. 'Sit down, sit down. Little Blossom hasbeen rather out of spirits, and I have been keeping her company. That'sall.'

I leaned my head upon my hand; and felt more sorry and downcast, as Isat looking at the fire, than I could have supposed possible so soonafter the fulfilment of my brightest hopes. As I sat thinking, Ihappened to meet my aunt's eyes, which were resting on my face. Therewas an anxious expression in them, but it cleared directly.

'I assure you, aunt,' said I, 'I have been quite unhappy myself allnight, to think of Dora's being so. But I had no other intention than tospeak to her tenderly and lovingly about our home-affairs.'

MY aunt nodded encouragement.

'You must have patience, Trot,' said she.

'Of course. Heaven knows I don't mean to be unreasonable, aunt!'

'No, no,' said my aunt. 'But Little Blossom is a very tender littleblossom, and the wind must be gentle with her.'

I thanked my good aunt, in my heart, for her tenderness towards my wife;and I was sure that she knew I did.

'Don't you think, aunt,' said I, after some further contemplation of thefire, 'that you could advise and counsel Dora a little, for our mutualadvantage, now and then?'

'Trot,' returned my aunt, with some emotion, 'no! Don't ask me such athing.'

Her tone was so very earnest that I raised my eyes in surprise.

'I look back on my life, child,' said my aunt, 'and I think of some whoare in their graves, with whom I might have been on kinder terms. If Ijudged harshly of other people's mistakes in marriage, it may have beenbecause I had bitter reason to judge harshly of my own. Let that pass. Ihave been a grumpy, frumpy, wayward sort of a woman, a good many years.I am still, and I always shall be. But you and I have done one anothersome good, Trot,--at all events, you have done me good, my dear; anddivision must not come between us, at this time of day.'

'Division between us!' cried I.

'Child, child!' said my aunt, smoothing her dress, 'how soon it mightcome between us, or how unhappy I might make our Little Blossom, if Imeddled in anything, a prophet couldn't say. I want our pet to like me,and be as gay as a butterfly. Remember your own home, in that secondmarriage; and never do both me and her the injury you have hinted at!'

I comprehended, at once, that my aunt was right; and I comprehended thefull extent of her generous feeling towards my dear wife.

'These are early days, Trot,' she pursued, 'and Rome was not built in aday, nor in a year. You have chosen freely for yourself'; a cloud passedover her face for a moment, I thought; 'and you have chosen a verypretty and a very affectionate creature. It will be your duty, and itwill be your pleasure too--of course I know that; I am not deliveringa lecture--to estimate her (as you chose her) by the qualities she has,and not by the qualities she may not have. The latter you must developin her, if you can. And if you cannot, child,' here my aunt rubbed hernose, 'you must just accustom yourself to do without 'em. But remember,my dear, your future is between you two. No one can assist you; you areto work it out for yourselves. This is marriage, Trot; and Heaven blessyou both, in it, for a pair of babes in the wood as you are!'

My aunt said this in a sprightly way, and gave me a kiss to ratify theblessing.

'Now,' said she, 'light my little lantern, and see me into my bandbox bythe garden path'; for there was a communication between our cottages inthat direction. 'Give Betsey Trotwood's love to Blossom, when you comeback; and whatever you do, Trot, never dream of setting Betsey up as ascarecrow, for if I ever saw her in the glass, she's quite grim enoughand gaunt enough in her private capacity!'

With this my aunt tied her head up in a handkerchief, with which she wasaccustomed to make a bundle of it on such occasions; and I escorted herhome. As she stood in her garden, holding up her little lantern to lightme back, I thought her observation of me had an anxious air again; butI was too much occupied in pondering on what she had said, and too muchimpressed--for the first time, in reality--by the conviction that Doraand I had indeed to work out our future for ourselves, and that no onecould assist us, to take much notice of it.

Dora came stealing down in her little slippers, to meet me, now that Iwas alone; and cried upon my shoulder, and said I had been hard-heartedand she had been naughty; and I said much the same thing in effect, Ibelieve; and we made it up, and agreed that our first little differencewas to be our last, and that we were never to have another if we lived ahundred years.

The next domestic trial we went through, was the Ordeal of Servants.Mary Anne's cousin deserted into our coal-hole, and was brought out, toour great amazement, by a piquet of his companions in arms, who tookhim away handcuffed in a procession that covered our front-garden withignominy. This nerved me to get rid of Mary Anne, who went so mildly,on receipt of wages, that I was surprised, until I found out about thetea-spoons, and also about the little sums she had borrowed in myname of the tradespeople without authority. After an interval of Mrs.Kidgerbury--the oldest inhabitant of Kentish Town, I believe, who wentout charing, but was too feeble to execute her conceptions of thatart--we found another treasure, who was one of the most amiable ofwomen, but who generally made a point of falling either up or down thekitchen stairs with the tray, and almost plunged into the parlour,as into a bath, with the tea-things. The ravages committed by thisunfortunate, rendering her dismissal necessary, she was succeeded (withintervals of Mrs. Kidgerbury) by a long line of Incapables; terminatingin a young person of genteel appearance, who went to Greenwich Fair inDora's bonnet. After whom I remember nothing but an average equality offailure.

Everybody we had anything to do with seemed to cheat us. Our appearancein a shop was a signal for the damaged goods to be brought outimmediately. If we bought a lobster, it was full of water. All our meatturned out to be tough, and there was hardly any crust to our loaves.In search of the principle on which joints ought to be roasted, to beroasted enough, and not too much, I myself referred to the Cookery Book,and found it there established as the allowance of a quarter of an hourto every pound, and say a quarter over. But the principle always failedus by some curious fatality, and we never could hit any medium betweenredness and cinders.

I had reason to believe that in accomplishing these failures we incurreda far greater expense than if we had achieved a series of triumphs. Itappeared to me, on looking over the tradesmen's books, as if we mighthave kept the basement storey paved with butter, such was the extensivescale of our consumption of that article. I don't know whether theExcise returns of the period may have exhibited any increase in thedemand for pepper; but if our performances did not affect the market,I should say several families must have left off using it. And the mostwonderful fact of all was, that we never had anything in the house.

As to the washerwoman pawning the clothes, and coming in a state ofpenitent intoxication to apologize, I suppose that might have happenedseveral times to anybody. Also the chimney on fire, the parish engine,and perjury on the part of the Beadle. But I apprehend that we werepersonally fortunate in engaging a servant with a taste for cordials,who swelled our running account for porter at the public-house by suchinexplicable items as 'quartern rum shrub (Mrs. C.)'; 'Half-quarterngin and cloves (Mrs. C.)'; 'Glass rum and peppermint (Mrs. C.)'--theparentheses always referring to Dora, who was supposed, it appeared onexplanation, to have imbibed the whole of these refreshments.

One of our first feats in the housekeeping way was a little dinner toTraddles. I met him in town, and asked him to walk out with me thatafternoon. He readily consenting, I wrote to Dora, saying I would bringhim home. It was pleasant weather, and on the road we made my domestichappiness the theme of conversation. Traddles was very full of it; andsaid, that, picturing himself with such a home, and Sophy waiting andpreparing for him, he could think of nothing wanting to complete hisbliss.

I could not have wished for a prettier little wife at the opposite endof the table, but I certainly could have wished, when we sat down, for alittle more room. I did not know how it was, but though there were onlytwo of us, we were at once always cramped for room, and yet had alwaysroom enough to lose everything in. I suspect it may have been becausenothing had a place of its own, except Jip's pagoda, which invariablyblocked up the main thoroughfare. On the present occasion, Traddleswas so hemmed in by the pagoda and the guitar-case, and Dora'sflower-painting, and my writing-table, that I had serious doubts of thepossibility of his using his knife and fork; but he protested, with hisown good-humour, 'Oceans of room, Copperfield! I assure you, Oceans!'

There was another thing I could have wished, namely, that Jip had neverbeen encouraged to walk about the tablecloth during dinner. I began tothink there was something disorderly in his being there at all, evenif he had not been in the habit of putting his foot in the salt or themelted butter. On this occasion he seemed to think he was introducedexpressly to keep Traddles at bay; and he barked at my old friend, andmade short runs at his plate, with such undaunted pertinacity, that hemay be said to have engrossed the conversation.

However, as I knew how tender-hearted my dear Dora was, and howsensitive she would be to any slight upon her favourite, I hinted noobjection. For similar reasons I made no allusion to the skirmishingplates upon the floor; or to the disreputable appearance of the castors,which were all at sixes and sevens, and looked drunk; or to the furtherblockade of Traddles by wandering vegetable dishes and jugs. I couldnot help wondering in my own mind, as I contemplated the boiled leg ofmutton before me, previous to carving it, how it came to pass thatour joints of meat were of such extraordinary shapes--and whether ourbutcher contracted for all the deformed sheep that came into the world;but I kept my reflections to myself.

'My love,' said I to Dora, 'what have you got in that dish?'

I could not imagine why Dora had been making tempting little faces atme, as if she wanted to kiss me.

'Oysters, dear,' said Dora, timidly.

'Was that YOUR thought?' said I, delighted.

'Ye-yes, Doady,' said Dora.

'There never was a happier one!' I exclaimed, laying down thecarving-knife and fork. 'There is nothing Traddles likes so much!'

'Ye-yes, Doady,' said Dora, 'and so I bought a beautiful little barrelof them, and the man said they were very good. But I--I am afraidthere's something the matter with them. They don't seem right.' HereDora shook her head, and diamonds twinkled in her eyes.

'They are only opened in both shells,' said I. 'Take the top one off, mylove.'

'But it won't come off!' said Dora, trying very hard, and looking verymuch distressed.

'Do you know, Copperfield,' said Traddles, cheerfully examining thedish, 'I think it is in consequence--they are capital oysters, but Ithink it is in consequence--of their never having been opened.'

They never had been opened; and we had no oyster-knives--and couldn'thave used them if we had; so we looked at the oysters and ate themutton. At least we ate as much of it as was done, and made up withcapers. If I had permitted him, I am satisfied that Traddles would havemade a perfect savage of himself, and eaten a plateful of raw meat, toexpress enjoyment of the repast; but I would hear of no such immolationon the altar of friendship, and we had a course of bacon instead; therehappening, by good fortune, to be cold bacon in the larder.

My poor little wife was in such affliction when she thought I should beannoyed, and in such a state of joy when she found I was not, that thediscomfiture I had subdued, very soon vanished, and we passed a happyevening; Dora sitting with her arm on my chair while Traddles and Idiscussed a glass of wine, and taking every opportunity of whisperingin my ear that it was so good of me not to be a cruel, cross old boy. Byand by she made tea for us; which it was so pretty to see her do, as ifshe was busying herself with a set of doll's tea-things, that I was notparticular about the quality of the beverage. Then Traddles and I playeda game or two at cribbage; and Dora singing to the guitar the while,it seemed to me as if our courtship and marriage were a tender dreamof mine, and the night when I first listened to her voice were not yetover.

When Traddles went away, and I came back into the parlour from seeinghim out, my wife planted her chair close to mine, and sat down by myside. 'I am very sorry,' she said. 'Will you try to teach me, Doady?'

'I must teach myself first, Dora,' said I. 'I am as bad as you, love.'

'Ah! But you can learn,' she returned; 'and you are a clever, cleverman!'

'Nonsense, mouse!' said I.

'I wish,' resumed my wife, after a long silence, 'that I could have gonedown into the country for a whole year, and lived with Agnes!'

Her hands were clasped upon my shoulder, and her chin rested on them,and her blue eyes looked quietly into mine.

'Why so?' I asked.

'I think she might have improved me, and I think I might have learnedfrom her,' said Dora.

'All in good time, my love. Agnes has had her father to take care of forthese many years, you should remember. Even when she was quite a child,she was the Agnes whom we know,' said I.

'Will you call me a name I want you to call me?' inquired Dora, withoutmoving.

'What is it?' I asked with a smile.

'It's a stupid name,' she said, shaking her curls for a moment.'Child-wife.'

I laughingly asked my child-wife what her fancy was in desiring to be socalled. She answered without moving, otherwise than as the arm I twinedabout her may have brought her blue eyes nearer to me:

'I don't mean, you silly fellow, that you should use the name insteadof Dora. I only mean that you should think of me that way. When you aregoing to be angry with me, say to yourself, "it's only my child-wife!"When I am very disappointing, say, "I knew, a long time ago, that shewould make but a child-wife!" When you miss what I should like to be,and I think can never be, say, "still my foolish child-wife loves me!"For indeed I do.'

I had not been serious with her; having no idea until now, that she wasserious herself. But her affectionate nature was so happy in what I nowsaid to her with my whole heart, that her face became a laughing onebefore her glittering eyes were dry. She was soon my child-wife indeed;sitting down on the floor outside the Chinese House, ringing allthe little bells one after another, to punish Jip for his recent badbehaviour; while Jip lay blinking in the doorway with his head out, eventoo lazy to be teased.

This appeal of Dora's made a strong impression on me. I look back on thetime I write of; I invoke the innocent figure that I dearly loved, tocome out from the mists and shadows of the past, and turn its gentlehead towards me once again; and I can still declare that this one littlespeech was constantly in my memory. I may not have used it to the bestaccount; I was young and inexperienced; but I never turned a deaf ear toits artless pleading.

Dora told me, shortly afterwards, that she was going to be a wonderfulhousekeeper. Accordingly, she polished the tablets, pointed the pencil,bought an immense account-book, carefully stitched up with a needle andthread all the leaves of the Cookery Book which Jip had torn, and madequite a desperate little attempt 'to be good', as she called it. But thefigures had the old obstinate propensity--they WOULD NOT add up. Whenshe had entered two or three laborious items in the account-book, Jipwould walk over the page, wagging his tail, and smear them all out. Herown little right-hand middle finger got steeped to the very bone in ink;and I think that was the only decided result obtained.

Sometimes, of an evening, when I was at home and at work--for I wrotea good deal now, and was beginning in a small way to be known as awriter--I would lay down my pen, and watch my child-wife trying to begood. First of all, she would bring out the immense account-book, andlay it down upon the table, with a deep sigh. Then she would open it atthe place where Jip had made it illegible last night, and call Jipup, to look at his misdeeds. This would occasion a diversion in Jip'sfavour, and some inking of his nose, perhaps, as a penalty. Then shewould tell Jip to lie down on the table instantly, 'like a lion'--whichwas one of his tricks, though I cannot say the likeness wasstriking--and, if he were in an obedient humour, he would obey. Then shewould take up a pen, and begin to write, and find a hair in it. Thenshe would take up another pen, and begin to write, and find that itspluttered. Then she would take up another pen, and begin to write, andsay in a low voice, 'Oh, it's a talking pen, and will disturb Doady!'And then she would give it up as a bad job, and put the account-bookaway, after pretending to crush the lion with it.

Or, if she were in a very sedate and serious state of mind, she wouldsit down with the tablets, and a little basket of bills and otherdocuments, which looked more like curl-papers than anything else, andendeavour to get some result out of them. After severely comparing onewith another, and making entries on the tablets, and blotting themout, and counting all the fingers of her left hand over and over again,backwards and forwards, she would be so vexed and discouraged, andwould look so unhappy, that it gave me pain to see her bright faceclouded--and for me!--and I would go softly to her, and say:

'What's the matter, Dora?'

Dora would look up hopelessly, and reply, 'They won't come right. Theymake my head ache so. And they won't do anything I want!'

Then I would say, 'Now let us try together. Let me show you, Dora.'

Then I would commence a practical demonstration, to which Dora would payprofound attention, perhaps for five minutes; when she would begin to bedreadfully tired, and would lighten the subject by curling my hair,or trying the effect of my face with my shirt-collar turned down. IfI tacitly checked this playfulness, and persisted, she would look soscared and disconsolate, as she became more and more bewildered, thatthe remembrance of her natural gaiety when I first strayed into herpath, and of her being my child-wife, would come reproachfully upon me;and I would lay the pencil down, and call for the guitar.

I had a great deal of work to do, and had many anxieties, but the sameconsiderations made me keep them to myself. I am far from sure, now,that it was right to do this, but I did it for my child-wife's sake. Isearch my breast, and I commit its secrets, if I know them, without anyreservation to this paper. The old unhappy loss or want of somethinghad, I am conscious, some place in my heart; but not to the embittermentof my life. When I walked alone in the fine weather, and thought of thesummer days when all the air had been filled with my boyish enchantment,I did miss something of the realization of my dreams; but I thought itwas a softened glory of the Past, which nothing could have thrown uponthe present time. I did feel, sometimes, for a little while, that Icould have wished my wife had been my counsellor; had had more characterand purpose, to sustain me and improve me by; had been endowed withpower to fill up the void which somewhere seemed to be about me; butI felt as if this were an unearthly consummation of my happiness, thatnever had been meant to be, and never could have been.

I was a boyish husband as to years. I had known the softening influenceof no other sorrows or experiences than those recorded in these leaves.If I did any wrong, as I may have done much, I did it in mistaken love,and in my want of wisdom. I write the exact truth. It would avail menothing to extenuate it now.

Thus it was that I took upon myself the toils and cares of our life,and had no partner in them. We lived much as before, in reference to ourscrambling household arrangements; but I had got used to those, and DoraI was pleased to see was seldom vexed now. She was bright and cheerfulin the old childish way, loved me dearly, and was happy with her oldtrifles.

When the debates were heavy--I mean as to length, not quality, for inthe last respect they were not often otherwise--and I went home late,Dora would never rest when she heard my footsteps, but would always comedownstairs to meet me. When my evenings were unoccupied by the pursuitfor which I had qualified myself with so much pains, and I was engagedin writing at home, she would sit quietly near me, however late thehour, and be so mute, that I would often think she had dropped asleep.But generally, when I raised my head, I saw her blue eyes looking at mewith the quiet attention of which I have already spoken.

'Oh, what a weary boy!' said Dora one night, when I met her eyes as Iwas shutting up my desk.

'What a weary girl!' said I. 'That's more to the purpose. You must go tobed another time, my love. It's far too late for you.'

'No, don't send me to bed!' pleaded Dora, coming to my side. 'Pray,don't do that!'

'Dora!' To my amazement she was sobbing on my neck. 'Not well, my dear!not happy!'

'Yes! quite well, and very happy!' said Dora. 'But say you'll let mestop, and see you write.'

'Why, what a sight for such bright eyes at midnight!' I replied.

'Are they bright, though?' returned Dora, laughing. 'I'm so glad they'rebright.' 'Little Vanity!' said I.

But it was not vanity; it was only harmless delight in my admiration. Iknew that very well, before she told me so.

'If you think them pretty, say I may always stop, and see you write!'said Dora. 'Do you think them pretty?'

'Very pretty.'

'Then let me always stop and see you write.'

'I am afraid that won't improve their brightness, Dora.'

'Yes, it will! Because, you clever boy, you'll not forget me then, whileyou are full of silent fancies. Will you mind it, if I say somethingvery, very silly?---more than usual?' inquired Dora, peeping over myshoulder into my face.

'What wonderful thing is that?' said I.

'Please let me hold the pens,' said Dora. 'I want to have something todo with all those many hours when you are so industrious. May I hold thepens?'

The remembrance of her pretty joy when I said yes, brings tears into myeyes. The next time I sat down to write, and regularly afterwards,she sat in her old place, with a spare bundle of pens at her side. Hertriumph in this connexion with my work, and her delight when I wanted anew pen--which I very often feigned to do--suggested to me a new way ofpleasing my child-wife. I occasionally made a pretence of wanting apage or two of manuscript copied. Then Dora was in her glory. Thepreparations she made for this great work, the aprons she put on, thebibs she borrowed from the kitchen to keep off the ink, the time shetook, the innumerable stoppages she made to have a laugh with Jip as ifhe understood it all, her conviction that her work was incomplete unlessshe signed her name at the end, and the way in which she would bring itto me, like a school-copy, and then, when I praised it, clasp me roundthe neck, are touching recollections to me, simple as they might appearto other men.

She took possession of the keys soon after this, and went jingling aboutthe house with the whole bunch in a little basket, tied to her slenderwaist. I seldom found that the places to which they belonged werelocked, or that they were of any use except as a plaything for Jip--butDora was pleased, and that pleased me. She was quite satisfied that agood deal was effected by this make-belief of housekeeping; and was asmerry as if we had been keeping a baby-house, for a joke.

So we went on. Dora was hardly less affectionate to my aunt than to me,and often told her of the time when she was afraid she was 'a cross oldthing'. I never saw my aunt unbend more systematically to anyone. Shecourted Jip, though Jip never responded; listened, day after day, to theguitar, though I am afraid she had no taste for music; never attackedthe Incapables, though the temptation must have been severe; wentwonderful distances on foot to purchase, as surprises, any trifles thatshe found out Dora wanted; and never came in by the garden, and missedher from the room, but she would call out, at the foot of the stairs, ina voice that sounded cheerfully all over the house:

'Where's Little Blossom?'