"Mother lives upon hope, Josie, and we must not try to destroy that hope, however small its foundation. Come, be a brave little woman, and make the best of things. I'll take you a run down the river to Margate one of these days."
"Oh, do. I shouldn't mind anything if you were always at home. If only you were curate here, or if we could go and live where you are, I wouldn't mind, then, being in London all the year round; or even if you weren't so busy, and could come and see me often."
"Or if you could have any single thing that you have not now," said Leveson, shaking his head. "No, no, Josie, that isn't being brave and contented. Your business is to be poor mother's little comforter, and it ought to be your happiness as well."
"And so it is," murmured Josie. "Only—only—if—"
"Only you want a little dash of river and sea-water to freshen you up. You shall manage it some day soon, or I will manage it for you. A sprinkling of spray is a capital remedy for discontent, and I'll take care that you try it before long. Will that do?"
"Oh, you are such a nice kind Leveson," said Josie.
[CHAPTER VII.]
OLD JOB KIPPIS.