Oh! what a lonely, lonely little girl she was; were it not for Roy, how without love and interest would her life be! but yes, she still had her darling, precious baby boy.  At the remembrance of him she raised her face, and then got up slowly from her crouching position.  It was full time to give him his supper and put him to bed.  She reproached herself afresh for having forgotten him so long.  Was it possible that he was still asleep on the sofa in the sitting-room! no, this could scarcely be the case, for her father had said that he had done the incalculable mischief of tearing up his prize essay.  Poor, poor little Roy, how innocently he had committed this great crime! how often had she kept him quiet by giving him an old newspaper to tear!  Yes, she, and she alone, was the only one to blame for the mischief done that night; but whoever was the guilty party, Roy must have his supper and go to bed; it was far too late already for a little child only two years old to be up.  Faith must brave her father's anger and fetch Roy from the sitting-room.  She trembled a little as she approached the door, and thought of her stern father's voice and manner; but though far too timid to raise even a finger to help herself, Faith was one of those who would gladly take her very life in her hand to save or aid one whom she loved.  She opened the door softly and looked in.  Her father was seated by the table, the gas flaring high over his head; he was trying laboriously to put some of his torn essay together; he heard the movement at the door, but without looking up called out harshly--"Go away; I can't be disturbed."