her's burdens, for no man is without fault; no man but hath his
burden; no man is self-sufficient; no man has wisdom enough for himself
alone. But we ought to bear with one another, comfort, help, instruct,
and admonish one another."

He shut the little book, and turned his eyes absently across the broad,
green meadows. Delia knew that absent look of the Professor's well. It
meant that he was travelling back into the past, seeing and hearing
things of which she knew nothing. Yet, though he did not seem to be
speaking to her, every word he said sank into her mind.

"It's very hard for strong people to bear with weakness. It's such a
disappointing, puzzling thing to them. They are always expecting
impossibilities. Yet they are bound to help. It is a sin to turn
aside. To leave weakness to trail along in the mire when they might be
a prop for it to lean on and climb upwards by. The strong have a duty
to the weak, and lessons to learn from them. But they are hard
lessons--hard lessons."

Long after he had finished, Mr Goodwin sat with his eyes fixed musingly
on the distance, and Delia would not disturb his thoughts by a single
word. Even when they walked home together they had very little to say,
and were both in a silent mood. When they parted at the turning to Back
Row, Delia spoke almost for the first time.

"I'm not going to be cross to Anna any more, Professor. You may feel
quite happy about that."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE PALMERS' PICNIC.

Faithful are the wounds of a friend.

One very hot afternoon a little later, there had been a glee-practising
at the Hunts' house, a meeting which, of all others, was most
distasteful to Delia. The last guest had taken leave, and her mother
being on the edge of a comfortable nap in the shaded drawing-room, she
was just stealing away to her garret, when the bell rang.

"Don't go away, my love," murmured Mrs Hunt, half-asleep, and as she
spoke Mrs Winn's solid figure advanced into the room.

Delia resigned herself to listen to the disjointed chat which went on
between the two ladies for a little while, but soon the visitor, taking
pity on Mrs Hunt's brave efforts to keep her eyes from closing, turned
her attention in another direction.

"I'm afraid," she said, moving her chair nearer to Delia, "that poor,
old Mr Goodwin must be sadly disappointed about his grandchild, isn't
he?"

It always vexed Delia to hear the Professor called "poor and old."

"Why