od right to a hundred dollar shawl as Anna," replied
my sister, in a very undutiful tone. "And what is more, Im going to
have one."

"What reason did your father give for refusing your request to-day?"
asked my mother.

"Couldn't spare the money! Had a large payment to make! Only an excuse!"

"Stop, my child!" was the quick, firm remark, made with unusual
feeling. "Is that the way to speak of so good a father? Of one who has
ever been so kindly indulgent? Jane! Jane! You know not what you are
saying!"

My sister looked something abashed at this unexpected rebuke, when my
mother took occasion to add, with an earnestness of manner that I could
not help remarking as singular,

"Your father is troubled about something. Business may not be going on
to his satisfaction. Last night I awoke, and found him walking the
floor. To my questions he merely answered that he was wakeful. His
health is not so good as formerly, and his spirits are low. Don't, let
me pray you, do anything to worry him. Say no more about this money,
Jane; you will get it whenever it can be spared."

I did not see my father again until tea-time. Occasionally, business
engagements pressed upon him so closely that he did not come home at
the usual hour for dining. He looked pale--weary--almost haggard.

"Dear father, are you sick?" said I, laying a hand upon him, and gazing
earnestly into his countenance.

"I do not feel very well," he replied, partly averting his face, as if
he did not wish me to read its expression too closely. "I have had a
weary day."

"You must take more recreation," said I. "This excessive devotion to
business is destroying your health. Why will you do it, father?"

He merely sighed as he passed onwards, and ascended to his own room. At
tea-time I observed that his face was unusually sober. His silence was
nothing uncommon, and so that passed without remark from any one.

On the next day Jane received the hundred dollars, which was spent for
a shawl like mine. This brought the sunshine back to her face. Her
moody looks, I saw, disturbed my father.

From this time, the hand which had ever been ready to supply all our
wants real or imaginary, opened less promptly at our demands. My father
talked occasionally of retrenchment and economy when some of our
extravagant bills came in; but we paid little heed to his remarks on
this head. Where could we retrench? In what could we economize? The
very idea was absurd. We had nothing t