me that, you dearest mamma," laughed
Walter, repeating his caresses; "but nobody else must do it."

"Not even grandpa?" queried Mr. Dinsmore, with a proudly affectionate
smile into the bright young face.

"I don't think you'd want to, grandpa," returned the lad, "because, you
know, you're always telling me I must try to be a manly boy. But I came
up to remind you and mamma that it's time for prayers. Grandma sent me
to do so and to ask if you could both come down now."

"You will not think of going down, Elsie?" Mr. Dinsmore exclaimed in
surprise, as his daughter made a movement as if to rise from her couch.

"Yes, papa," she returned. "I have been resting here for some hours and
feel quite able to join the family now. I am not in pain at this moment,
and Arthur said nothing about keeping to my room."

"Then I wouldn't, mamma," said Walter, slipping his hand into hers. "I'm
sure Cousin Arthur's always ready enough to order us to keep to our
rooms if there's any occasion. I'm glad he doesn't think you sick enough
to have to do that."

His mother only smiled in reply, and, taking her father's offered arm,
moved on in the direction of the stairway, Walter still clinging to her
other hand.

Anxious looks and inquiries greeted her on their entrance into the
parlor, where family and servants were already gathered for the evening
service; but she parried them all with such cheery words and bright
sweet smiles as set their fears at rest for the time.

But those of Edward were presently rearoused as--the younger members of
the family and the servants having retired from the room--he noticed a
look of keen, almost anguished anxiety, bestowed by his grandfather upon
his mother; then that her cheek was unusually pale.

"Mother dear, you are not well!" he exclaimed, hastily rising and going
to her.

"No, not quite, my dear boy," she replied, smiling up at him; "but do
not look so distressed; none of us can expect always to escape all
illness. I am going back to my room now and, though able to do so
without assistance, will accept the support of the arm of my eldest son,
if it is offered me."

"Gladly, mother dear, unless you will let me carry you; which I am fully
able to do."

"Oh, no, Ned," she said laughingly, as she rose and put her hand within
his arm; "the day may possibly come when I shall tax your young strength
to that extent, but it is not necessary now. Papa, dear," turning to
him, "shall I say good-night