"The usual thing. O, but I haven't told you what I have come here for to-night."
"I thought it was, to see me."
"Yes, but not for pleasure, this time," said the lively lady, laughing. "I had business—I really do have business sometimes. I came this evening, because I wanted to see you when I could have a chance to explain myself. Mrs. Wishart, I want you to take my place. They have made me first directress of the Forlorn Children's Home."
"Does the epithet apply to the place? or to the children?" Mr. Dillwyn asked.
"Now I cannot undertake the office," Mrs. Burrage went on without heeding him. "My hands are as full as they can hold, and my head fuller. You must take it, Mrs. Wishart. You are just the person."
"I?" said Mrs. Wishart, with no delighted expression. "What are the duties?"
"O, just oversight, you know; keeping things straight. Everybody needs to be kept up to the mark. I cannot, for our Reading Club meets just at the time when I ought to be up at the Home."
The ladies went into a closer discussion of the subject in its various bearings; and Mr. Dillwyn and Madge returned to their chess play. Lois lay watching and thinking. Mr. Burrage looked on at the chess-board, and made remarks on the game languidly. By and by the talk of the two ladies ceased, and the head of Mrs. Burrage came round, and she also studied the chess-players. Her face was observant and critical, Lois thought; oddly observant and thoughtful.
"Where did you get such charming friends to stay with you, Mrs.
Wishart? You are to be envied."
Mrs. Wishart explained, how Lois had been ill, and had come to get well under her care.