"And here's my little girl," continued Mrs. Dering in a moment, and looking down at Jean, whose head lay in her lap. "Has she any?"
"None, mama," answered Jean, looking up with happy eyes. "Except that you are going away, and that Uncle Ridley is not here."
"Surely, no one supposes for an instant that I have any," said Olive, and every one shook their heads in a decided negative, except Mrs. Dering, and she looked across into Olive's eyes with a smile, and Olive, catching the look, dropped them to the fire, and said no more. She had intimated that she had none; but was it so in the depths of her heart? Was she quite content?
"You do to-night, as you did before, and no one asks me for mine," said Mrs. Dering with a smile. "Do you rightly guess that I have none?"
"We hope that you have none, mama," said Bea, lovingly.
"Indeed, I have not, my dear girls; instead, as I sit here to-night with you all around me, I wonder if I am fully grateful for how good God has been to me. I look at you, and I see in my girls just such good, true women as their father would have them, and I am more than content. I would that these three vacant places might be filled to-night, but God knows best, and I feel only love, not regret. No, my dear girls, I have no disappointments to-night, only a heart full of happiness and content."
They were silent after that for a little while, and then Bess dropped to sleep, and Olive crossed to Bea's side, as the gentlemen were heard coming from the library.
"Let me take her up stairs, Bea—you look tired;" and Bea handed the precious charge over, and Olive went slowly up stairs, with her arms tenderly clasped about the little form, her cheeks laid to the soft baby face, and a look in her eyes that mother might have read had she seen it.
The sleepers already there, and sprawled about in characteristic attitudes, was a sight to hold one's gaze.
Philip lay perfectly straight and orderly, with a sober countenance, and both hands crossed on his little stomach; while Tom, the tumbler, had completely reversed himself, and lay with his feet on the pillow, his body in a snarl, and his head just ready to fall off the edge with the next jerk. Louise had dispensed with her pillow, it was on the floor, while she lay in the sweetest possible attitude, with one tiny hand under the dimpled cheek, on which the long, dark lashes rested softly, and one wee snowy little foot peeped out of the clothes. Olive laid the baby in its nest, and covered it warmly, bending many times to kiss the rosy little face; then she righted Tom, restored the pillow, and removed some of Philip's covering, as he seemed to be too warm; and then she stood still looking at them.