ixed upon her
face as if he would read the truth.

Every feeling of Maude Remington's heart answered, "No," to that
question, but she could not say so to the boy, and she replied, "Not
as I could love my own father--neither does he love me, for I am not
his child."

This explanation was not then wholly clear to Louis, but he
understood that there was a barrier between his father and Maude,
and this of itself was sufficient to draw him more closely to the
latter, who, after that day, cherished him, if possible, more
tenderly than she had done before, keeping him out of his father's
way, and cushioning his little crutches so they could not be heard,
for she rightly guessed that the sound of them was hateful to the
harsh man's ears.

Maude was far older than her years, and during the period of time
over which we have passed so briefly she had matured both in mind
and body, until now at the age of twelve she was a self-reliant
little woman on whom her mother wholly depended for comfort and
counsel. Very rapidly was Mrs. Kennedy passing from the world, and
as she felt the approach of death she leaned more and more upon her
daughter, talking to her often of the future and commending Louis to
her care, when with her he would be motherless. Maude's position was
now a trying one, for, when her mother became too ill to leave her
room, and the doctor refused to hire extra help, saying, "two great
girls were help enough," it was necessary for her to go into the
kitchen, where she vainly tried to conciliate old Hannah, who
"wouldn't mind a chit of a girl, and wouldn't fret herself either if
things were not half done."

From the first Nellie resolutely refused to work--"it would black
her hands," she said, and as her father never remonstrated she spent
her time in reading, admiring her pretty face, and drumming upon the
piano, which Maude, who was fonder even than Nellie of music, seldom
found time to touch. One there was, however, who gave to Maude every
possible assistance, and this was John. "Having tried his hand," as
he said, "at everything in Marster Norton's school," he proved of
invaluable service--sweeping, dusting, washing dishes, cleaning
knives, and once ironing Dr. Kennedy's shirts, when old Hannah was
in what he called her "tantrums." But alas for John! the entire
print of the iron upon the bosom of one, to say nothing of the piles
of starch upon another, and more than all, the tremendous scolding
which he receiv