.

"O, la!" replied Mrs. Royden; "she don't hurt herself, I hope."

"She is very feeble and low-spirited," continued the other. "You
shouldn't send her out there in the kitchen to work alone. Keep her more
with you, and try to make her cheerful. Her lot would be a hard one
enough, if she had all the luxuries of life at her command. Do be kind
to her!"

Had Mr. Royden known what a comfort those few words, so easily spoken,
proved to Hepsy's sensitive heart, he would have blessed the good angel
that whispered them in his ear. She wept still; but now her tears were a
relief, and she dried them soon. She felt happier than she had done in
many days before; and when she heard his voice calling her in the other
room, she ran cheerfully to learn what he wished of her.

"Sarah has got a letter from Chester, and he sends his love to you,"
said he. "Read what he writes, Sarah."

Sarah stood by a window, eagerly running her clear blue eye over her
brother's letter. Hepsy, trembling with agitation, looked up at her rosy
face, and shrank into the corner by the chimney to avoid observation. At
first she had turned very pale, but now her cheeks burned with blushes.

"Why, he says he is coming home in a week!" cried Sarah.

Mrs. Royden uttered an exclamation of surprise, looking up from her
sewing; Hepsy shrank still further in the corner, and Mr. Royden asked,
impatiently,

"What boyish freak is that?"

"He does not explain. There is some mystery about it," replied Sarah. "I
warrant he has been getting into trouble."

"If he has, he shall stay at home and work on the farm!" exclaimed her
father, in a tone of displeasure. "Read the letter aloud, now, so that
we can all hear it."

Sarah commenced at the beginning, and went through with the four
hastily-written pages. The listeners were very attentive; Hepsy
especially. She fixed her expressive eyes on her cousin with a look of
intense interest. When allusion was made to her, the poor girl's
countenance lighted up with pleasure, and her tears gathered again, but
did not fall.

"O, a letter!--who from?" cried a ringing voice.

The interruption was a relief to Hepsy. The children had returned from
the fields; they entered the sitting-room like a little band of
barbarians, with Lizzie--a girl some twelve years old--at their head,
laughing, talking, screaming, in an almost frightful manner.

"Hush! hush!" exclaimed Mr. Royden, putting down his foot, impatiently.

"Children!