"Nonsense, little goose. No man has ever come near you!"

"Yes, he did. He stood there. Just by Norah. A man with hair and a
beard. And he knelt down and said his prayers. Norah knows he was here,
mother" (half angrily, as Mrs. Openshaw shook her head in smiling
incredulity).

"Well! we will ask Norah when she comes," said Mrs. Openshaw, soothingly.
"But we won't talk any more about him now. It is not five o'clock; it is
too early for you to get up. Shall I fetch you a book and read to you?"

"Don't leave me, mother," said the child, clinging to her. So Mrs.
Openshaw sate on the bedside talking to Ailsie, and telling her of what
they had done at Richmond the evening before, until the little girl's
eyes slowly closed and she once more fell asleep.

"What was the matter?" asked Mr. Openshaw, as his wife returned to bed.
"Ailsie wakened up in a fright, with some story of a man having been in
the room to say his prayers,--a dream, I suppose." And no more was said
at the time.

Mrs. Openshaw had almost forgotten the whole affair when she got up about
seven o'clock. But, bye-and-bye, she heard a sharp altercation going on
in the nursery. Norah speaking angrily to Ailsie, a most unusual thing.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Openshaw listened in astonishment.

"Hold your tongue, Ailsie I let me hear none of your dreams; never let me
hear you tell that story again!" Ailsie began to cry.

Mr. Openshaw opened the door of communication before his wife could say a