o to the vicarage for
the year's visit that was all Archie had asked.

There are mothers and mothers in this world,--some who are capable of
sacrificing their children to Moloch, who will barter their own flesh
and blood in return for some barren heritage or other. There are those
who will exact from those dependent on them heavy tithes of daily
patience and uncomplaining drudgery; while others, who are "mothers
indeed" give all, asking for nothing in return.

Mrs. Drummond was a good woman. She had many virtues and few faults.
She was lady-like, industrious and self-denying in her own personal
comforts, an exemplary wife, and a tolerant mistress; but she was
better understood by her sons than by her daughters.

Her maternal instincts were very strong, and no mother had more
delighted in her nursery than she had in hers. As long as there was a
baby in the house the tenderness of her love was apparent enough. She
wore herself out tending her infants, and no one ever heard her say a
harsh word in her nursery.

But as her children grew up, there was much clashing of wills in the
household. Her sons did not fear her in the least; but with her
daughters it was otherwise. They felt the mother's strong will
repressive; it threatened to dwarf their individuality and cramp that
free growth that is so necessary to young things.

Dottie, who by virtue of being the last baby had had more than her
fair amount of petting, was only just beginning to learn her lesson of
unquestioning obedience; and, as she was somewhat spoiled, her lesson
was hard one. But Laura and Susie and Clara had not yet found out that
their mother loved them and wished to be their friend; they were timid
and reserved with her, and took all their troubles to Grace. Even
Mattie, who was her first-born, and who was old enough to be her
mother's companion, quailed and blushed like a child under the dry
caustic speeches at which Clyde and Fred only laughed.

"You don't understand the mother. Her bark is worse than her bite,"
Clyde would say to his sister sometimes. "She is an awfully clever
woman, and it riles her to see herself surrounded by such a set of
ninnies. Now, don't sulk, Belle. You know Mattie's a duffer compared
to Grace; aren't you, Matt?"

At which truism poor Mattie would hang her head.

"Yes, Clyde; I know I am dreadfully stupid sometimes, and that makes
mother angry."

Mrs. Drummond often complained bitterly of her daughters' want of
conf