The Girls Own Paper, Vol. VIII. No. 358, November 6, 1886 | Page 3

please, I think
I will lay baby in his cot, as he will sleep more soundly there, and then
it will be time to get Joyce ready for her dinner," for, in spite of my cap,
I had already forgotten to say "Miss Joyce," or to call my mistress
"ma'am," though I have reason to know that Mrs. Morton was not at all
displeased with the omission.
"It might have been a princess in disguise waiting on my children,
Merle," she said to me, many months afterwards. But I knew nothing of
the secret amusement with which my mistress watched me as she stood
by the nursery fire in her furs, warming herself; I only knew that I
loved to see her there, for from the first moment my heart had gone out
to her. She was so beautiful and gentle; but it was not only that.
Baby woke just as I was putting him in his cot, and I had some little
trouble in lulling him to sleep again. Hannah was dressing Joyce, and
as soon as she had finished, I tried to make friends with the child. She
was very shy at first, but I called Snap, and made a great fuss over him.
I was just beginning to make way, when the gong summoned Mrs.
Morton to luncheon, and soon after that the nursery dinner was served.
Hannah waited upon us very nicely, and then took her place at the table.
She was a thoroughly respectable girl, and her presence was not in the
least irksome to me. I always thought it was a grand old feudal custom
when all the retainers dined at the baron's table, taking their place
below the salt. Surely there can be nothing derogatory to human dignity
in that, seeing that we shall one day eat bread together in the kingdom
of Heaven.

I wonder if half the governesses fared so luxuriously as I that day;
certainly the chicken and bread sauce was delicious. As soon as we had
finished, baby woke up, and I fed him, and then Joyce and he and I had
a fine game of romps together, in which Snap, and the kitten, and all
Joyce's dolls joined.
I had dressed the kitten up in doll's clothes, and the fun was at its height,
when the door opened, and Mr. Morton came in. I discovered
afterwards that it was his custom to make a brief visit to the nursery
once in the four and twenty hours, sometimes with his wife, but oftener
alone.
Joyce ran to him at once; she was devoted to her parents, especially to
her mother, but the boy refused to leave me, unless his father would
take the kitten too.
"I suppose I must humour you, my fine fellow," observed Mr. Morton,
pleasantly, as he kissed the little fellow with affection, and then he
turned to me.
"I hope you find yourself comfortable, nurse, and that my children are
good to you."
"They could not be better, sir, and I am quite comfortable, thank you," I
returned, with unusual meekness. I was not a very meek person
generally, as Uncle Keith could testify, but there was a subduing
influence in Mr. Morton's look and voice. I must own I was rather
afraid of him, and I would not have omitted the "sir" for worlds, neither
would I have seated myself without his bidding; but he took it all quite
naturally.
"As my wife and I are dining out, Joyce will not come down in the
drawing-room as usual," he observed, in his business-like manner. "Do
you hear, my little girl? Mother and I are engaged this evening, and you
must stay upstairs with Reggie."
"Werry tiresome," I heard Joyce say under her breath, and then she
looked up pleadingly into her father's face. "Her is coming by-and-by,

fardie?"
"Oh, no doubt," stroking the dark hair; "but mother is driving at present.
Now, say good-bye to me, Joyce, and you must give me a kiss, too, my
boy. Good-evening, nurse." And that was all we saw of Joyce's father
that day; only an hour later, when the nursery tea was over, and I was
undressing the boy by the bedroom fire, while Joyce stood beside me,
removing the garments carefully from a favourite doll, and chattering
as fast as a purling brook, I saw Mrs. Morton standing in the doorway,
looking at us.
Joyce uttered a scream of delight, and threw herself upon her. "Mine
mother! mine mother!" she repeated over and over again.
Mrs. Morton had the old, tired look on her face as she came forward,
rather hurriedly. "I cannot stay; there are people downstairs, and when
they have gone I must dress for dinner." She gave a sort of harassed
sigh as she spoke.