der anything but boiled chickens for you, and forgets
that other people ever want to eat. There will be a chance of making a
housekeeper of her now.'

How selfish, thought Averil, to want to get rid of poor Leonard, that I
may attend to his dinners. Yet Henry had spoken in perfect good-humour.

Henry came down with a little sister in each hand. They were his
especial darlings; and with a touch of fatherly fondness, he tried to
compensate to them for their sequestration from the drawing-room, the
consequence of Averil not having established her authority enough to
keep their spirits from growing too riotous for Leonard's weakness.
Indeed, their chatter was Henry's sole enlivenment, for Averil was
constantly making excursions to ask what her patient would eat, and
watch its success; and but for his pleasure in the little girls popping
about him, he would have had a meal as dull as it was unsettled. As
soon as the strawberries were eaten, he walked out through the window
with them clinging to him, and Averil returned to her post.

'Some music, Ave,' said Leonard, with an instinctive dread of her
conversation.

She knew her voice was past singing, and began one of her most renowned
instrumental pieces, which she could play as mechanically as a
musical-box.

'Not that jingling airified thing!' cried Leonard, 'I want something
quiet and refreshing. There's an evening hymn that the Mays have.'

'The Mays know nothing of music,' said Averil.

'Stay, this is it:' and he whistled a few bars.

'That old thing! Of course I know that. We had it every Sunday at
Brighton.'

She began it, but her eyes were full of tears, partly because she hated
herself for the irritation she had betrayed. She was a sound, good,
honest-hearted girl; but among all the good things she had learned at
Brighton, had not been numbered the art of ruling her own spirit.

CHAPTER IV

Griefs hidden in the mind like treasures,
Will turn with time to solemn pleasures.

On the Monday morning, the two convalescents shook hands in the
waiting-room at the station, surveying each other rather curiously;
while Ethel, trying to conquer her trepidation, gave manifold promises
to Averil of care and correspondence.

Dr. Spencer acted escort, being far more serviceable on the railway
than his untravelled friend, whose lame arm, heedless head, and
aptitude for missing trains and mistaking luggage, made him a charge
rather than an assistant.