e day after to-morrow," said auntie. "Your father will write by every
mail."

In her own heart auntie had not much hope. From what Captain Desart
said, the anxiety was not likely to last long. The illness had taken a
different form from Mrs. Desart's other attacks. "She must be better or
worse in a day or two," he wrote, and auntie's heart sorely misgave her
as to which it would be.

The sorrowful day seemed very long to the children. They did their
lessons as usual, for auntie told them it would be much better to do so.

"Would it please mamma?" said Carrots; and when auntie said "Yes, she
was quite sure it would," he got his books at once, and "tried" even
harder than usual.

But after lessons they had no heart to play, and there was no "must"
about that. By bed-time they all looked worn out with crying and the
sort of strange excitement there is about great sorrows--above all to
children--which is more exhausting than almost anything.

"This will never do," thought auntie. "Hugh" (that was the name of
Sybil's father) "will have reason to think I should have taken his
advice, and not told them, if they go on like this."

"Sybil," she said, "Floss and Carrots will make themselves ill before
the next letter comes. What can we do for them?"

Sybil shook her head despondently.

"I don't know, mother dear," she said; "I've got out all my best things
to please them, but it's no good." She stood still for a minute, then
her face lightened up. "Mother," she said, "'aposing you were to read
aloud some of those stories you're going to get bounded up into a book
some day? They would like _that_."

Floss hardly felt as if she could care to hear _any_ stories, however
pretty. But she did not like to disappoint kind auntie by saying so,
especially when auntie told her she really wanted to know if she and
Carrots liked her stories, as it would help her to judge if other
children would care for them when they were "bounded up into a book."

So the next day auntie read them some, and they talked them over and got
quite interested in them. Fortunately, she did not read them all that
day, for the next day there was still more need of something to distract
the children's sorrowful thoughts, as the looked-for letter did not
come. Auntie would have liked to cheer the children by reminding them of
the old sayings that "No news is good news," and "It is ill news which
flies fast," but she dared not, for her own heart was very heav