Once a Week

arclay

in solemn Sabbath stillness. The Little Grey Woman of

his white flannel cricketing trousers. His footballing tie, with his college arms embroidered upon it, flapped gently in the breeze. To look at him you would have said that he was probably a crack

ys of Queen Victoria would have touched his hat humbly, but who now, in this horrible age of attempts to level all class distinctions, actually went on lighting his pipe! Alas, that the respectful deference of the poor toward the rich is now a

olved through the air he wondered how old she really was, and what, if any, was her income. For since the death of the Little White Lady h

up). Who, pray, is t

comes in my book, "The Broken Halo

e (annoye

ed to say to the curate when he upset the milk-jug into her lap, 'No milk, thank you.'" His brown eyes danced with amuse

when her ankle was sprained?"

s brown eyes, and was replaced by the commanding look of one w

; "I am a doctor." He bent do

s to know. His manner became very gentle and his voice very low; and, thou

cking her up in his strong young arm

urate is p

moments of irreverence; as, for instance, on one occasion when he had spoken of Mr. Loui

said gently. "Tell me where

m bravely. "The Man

e your income," he whispered; and his whole being

at's the end of the chap

oughout in the first person. Nearly a million copies were sold, thus showing that the heart of the great public approved of my method of telling my story throug

l Dr. Dick the story of her first marriage. I did that in my l

e (annoye