d kissed her tenderly. "It is all as we would have
it," she said. "And whatever mistake Mrs. Boyd might have made must be
balanced by the thought that if there had been no one, as she believed,
she would have taken you to her heart just as gladly, done for you with
the same cheerfulness. This is what she did; you must always keep it in
mind. And now--can you help make some arrangements? Whatever money is
needed----"

"Oh, Mrs. Barrington, I think there will be enough. She still had some
of her insurance money that she had used only in emergencies. And we
have needed so little here. Oh, you have all been so kind," in her
grateful, broken voice.

Then Dr. Kendricks was announced.

"I supposed it would be that way," he said.

"Shall I make arrangements for the funeral. There is no one, I
suppose----"

"It is too far away from her old friends for any of them to come, and I
am sure Lilian would like it as simple and quiet as possible. I should
say tomorrow morning. No one will go out of curiosity."

"Then I will see about it at once. The Major is all impatience to have
his daughter."

"You must come and share my room," Mrs. Barrington said to Lilian.

"Oh, she really doesn't seem any different to me," the girl returned.
"She has slept so much the last few days, and it is what we have
expected. God has taken her in His keeping and she will have those
belonging to her. It is a blessed thought."

She sat reading by the window when the Crawford phaeton drove up. Her
first feeling was that she could not meet her father. But a young man
sprang out and the coachman took charge of the horses.

"It is your brother," announced Mrs. Barrington. "Oh, do try and see
him. Your mother wishes it so much."

Lilian went down and was clasped to her mother's heart and held there
many seconds.

"This is your brother Willard, who is soon to leave for Washington and
he begged so much to see a little of you. His will be a three years'
cruise, and I am doubly glad to have found another child in view of his
long absence."

Lilian glanced up. It was such a frank, kindly face, too young yet for
any of his father's sternness.

"Oh, my dear, I wonder if you will ever understand how precious you are
going to be to us all. It is like one raised from the dead. I shall go
away with a lighter heart, seeing that mother and father have you. We
boys have been so much to the house with our stirring interests; now it
will be you and Zaidee. I sh