eady; let us accompany Mr. Goldthwaite and his sister
to the Red House on a mild October evening, and make friends with the
rest of the family. When the minister and his sister were ushered
into Mrs. Keane's drawing-room, its only occupants were that lady and
her two daughters, Alice and Minnie. The former was a tall, stately
young lady, like her father, stiff and reserved to strangers, but
much liked by her friends, among whom Carrie Goldthwaite was the
chief. Minnie Keane was a bright-eyed, curly-haired maiden of
fifteen, wild as an antelope, and as full of fun and frolic as any
one of her pet kittens. Their mother was an invalid, seldom able to
leave her couch;--not a fretful invalid, you must understand, but a
sweet, gentle, unselfish woman, who bore her pain and weakness
without a murmur, so that those she loved might be spared pain on her
account. Mr. Goldthwaite often said that Mrs. Keane's life was the
best sermon he had ever come across; and I think he was right. The
brother and sister received a warm welcome. Miss Keane and Carrie
withdrew to the wide window for a private chat, while Mr. Goldthwaite
remained by Mrs. Keane's sofa. He was an especial favourite of hers.
Minnie disappeared, and ere long Judge Keane and his second son,
George, appeared in the drawing-room. It is not necessary for me to
describe Mr. George Keane, except to say that he was his father's
right hand, and the greatest comfort of his mother's life; and that
is saying a great deal, isn't it? When he came in Alice found
something to do at her mother's couch, and her seat in the window did
not long remain unoccupied. There was quite a hum of conversation in
the room, and then when candles were brought in, and the curtains
drawn, Miss Keane said with a smile,--

"We have not had our pilgrimage up the Peak this fall. If we don't
have it soon it will be too late."

"Frank and I were talking of it yesterday," said Carrie Goldthwaite.
"The days are so pleasant, why not have it this week or beginning of
next?"

"Well," said Judge Keane, "settle the day when you are at it; I was
beginning to think our annual excursion was to be forgotten this
fall."

"This is Thursday, and to-morrow is my class day at Pendlepoint,"
said Miss Keane. "Saturday won't suit you, Mr. Goldthwaite?"

"Monday would be better," admitted Frank.

"Then Monday be it," said the judge. "We will start at twelve, and
luncheon at the summit at one."

"And, O papa, mayn't t