POOR LITTLE HARRY. 45

that his services won’t be wanted. It’s an
awful business.”

One of his friends nodded. “Poor little
chap! Why on earth don’t people look after
their children, I wonder? <A private wood—
gates all secured — notice-boards up — what
more can you do? I don’t see that we can
blame ourselves in the least.”

“No, there’s no one to blame, that I can see,”
said the other. “A pure accident. Oh, by the
way,” and he drew something from his coat-
pocket, “here’s a book he had evidently dropped.
Ha! there’s Rayner.”

For there was the click of the gate latch,
and the doctor, Miss Rayner’s father, came
quickly up the walk, entered and ran upstairs,
for Mrs. Maine had come partly down to meet
and call him.

He was a long time in the bed-room above;
Nellie meanwhile, sick and faint with terror,
shrinking closer into her corner unnoticed by
Mr. Cooper and his friends, who fidgeted un-
easily about the room, and continued to talk
about the sad accident.

At last Dr. Rayner came down and joined
them, his face telling nothing.