s broken up
and every one's hands and work belonging to some one else."

"Dear me," cried Olive, reproachfully. "How could I forget her! There's
something more to think over, now."

"But you must think no more to-night, dear, nor must I, or we will not
be fit for to-morrow's work and thought. Go to bed, and remember, God
will not send us more than we can bear; we must only do the best we can
and all that is left, He will provide a way for us. Good night, dear."

Next morning after breakfast, Mr. Congreve stood pulling his gloves on
and eyeing the six girls from under his fierce, bushy brows, and there
was something almost like amusement in the quizzical look as it swept
from one face to the other.

Whatever he thought, he put it into no words, but caught up his cane,
then stooped down over Jean, lying on the lounge, and whispered
something in her ear. It must have been something magical, indeed, for
Jean got up, took her shawl and crutch, and walked with him down to the
gate, and there the astonished girls, who all rushed to the window, saw
them pause, and the old gentleman lifted Jean up on the post, put her
shawl up over her head, and then began talking earnestly.

"Did you ever!" cried Kittie, falling back at the amazing sight. "I
thought she was afraid of him!"

"She is the only one that he has looked at kindly," said Bea, with some
indications of resentment in her voice. "Was he always so fierce and
queer, mama?"

"Always," answered Mrs. Dering, who was watching from another window.
"He has a kind heart, but a most exceedingly violent temper, which he
seems to have under no control.

"If thwarted or vexed, he stops at nothing, but most always repents his
rash acts as soon as they are committed, and, sometimes, if the humor so
strikes him, there is nothing he will not do as reparation."

Olive, understanding that this little explanation was especially for
her, shut her lips tightly, whereupon Kate exclaimed, "You never looked
at him when you were introduced, Olive, and if you could have seen the
way he frowned and glared at you, you would have shook all over."

"I don't care how he looked, nor how much he frowned. I don't like him,
and I wish he was back in Virginia."

"If he isn't stingy as a miser, he'll give us something, and perhaps ask
us to visit him," said Ernestine, who looked languid and pale from
excessive and violent weeping, and really seemed to be the only one who
was not trying to be cheer