There will be rapture enough, and it is a pity he should not have the benefit of it." The doctor sat down to write, while Margaret worked and mused, perhaps on outfits and new shirts--perhaps on Harry's lion-locks, beneath a blue cap and gold band, or, perchance, on the coral shoals of the Pacific.
It was one of the quiet afternoons, when all the rest were out, and which the doctor and his daughter especially valued, when they were able to spend one together without interruption.

Soon, however, a ring at the door brought an impatient exclamation from the doctor; but his smile beamed out at the words, "Miss Rivers." They were great friends; in fact, on terms of some mutual sauciness, though Meta was, as yet, far less at home with his daughters, and came in, looking somewhat shy.
"Ah, your congeners are gone out!" was the doctor's reception.

"You must put up with our sober selves." "Is Flora gone far ?" asked Meta.
"To Cocksmoor," said Margaret.

"I am very sorry she has missed you." "Shall I be in your way ?" said Meta timidly.

"Papa has several things to do, and said he would call for me here." "Good luck for Margaret," said Dr.May.
"So they are gone to Cocksmoor!" said Meta.