e drawing-room. "Mr. Trinder called, and was with her a
long time. I thought she seemed a bit poorly when I took in the
lamp."

"Mamsie is never fit for anything when that old ogre has been," broke
in Dulce, impatiently. "He always comes and tells her some nightmare
tale or other to prevent her sleeping. Now we shall not have the new
gowns we set our hearts on, Nan."

"Oh, never mind the gowns," returned Nan, rather wearily.

What did it matter if they had to wear their old ones when Dick would
not be there to see them? And Dorothy, who was contemplating her
favorite nursling with the privileged tenderness of an old servant,
chimed in with the utmost cheerfulness:

"It does not matter what she wears; does it, Miss Nan? She looks just
as nice in an old gown as a new one; that is what I say of all my
young ladies; dress does not matter a bit to them."

"How long are you all going to stand chattering with Dorothy?"
interrupted Phillis, in her clear decided voice. "Mother will wonder
what conspiracy we are hatching, and why we leave her so long alone."
And then Dorothy took up her candlestick, grumbling a little, as she
often did, over Miss Phillis's masterful ways, and the girls went
laughingly into their mother's presence.

Though it was summer-time, Mrs. Challoner's easy-chair was drawn up in
front of the rug, and she sat wrapped in her white shawl, with her
eyes fixed on the pretty painted fire-screen that hid the blackness of
the coals. She did not turn her head or move as her daughters entered;
indeed, so motionless was her attitude that Dulce thought she was
asleep, and went on tiptoe round her chair to steal a kiss. But Nan,
who had caught sight of her mother's face, put her quickly aside.

"Don't, Dulce; mother is not well. What is the matter, mammie,
darling?" kneeling down and bringing her bright face on a level with
her mother's. She would have taken her into her vigorous young arms,
but Mrs. Challoner almost pushed her away.

"Hush, children! Do be quiet, Nan; I cannot talk to you. I cannot
answer questions to-night." And then she shivered, and drew her shawl
closer round her, and put away Nan's caressing hands, and looked at
them all with a face that seemed to have grown pinched and old all at
once, and eyes full of misery.

"Mammie, you must speak to us," returned Nan, not a whit daunted by
this rebuff, but horribly frightened all the time. "Of course, Dorothy
told us that Mr. Trinder has been here