resume they will come to-day, for Maria can hardly wait
to have the doctor look at her eyes."

"Of course they'll come," said Horace; "who ever heard of _brooks_
minding the weather? Rain water agrees with 'em."

"If you please, Mrs. Allen," said Nathaniel, appearing at the door,
"I--"

"O, they've come--have they, Nat?" asked Horace. Horace was already well
acquainted with the waiting man, and called him Nat, though he was a
very sober youth, with velvety hair, and a green neck-tie, as stiff as a
cactus.

Nat only replied by handing Mrs. Allen a letter, with a hesitating air,
as if he would much rather not do it.

"A despatch!" cried Mrs. Allen, turning rather pale.

Dotty Dimple and Flyaway crowded close to her, and overwhelmed her with
questions.

"O, what is it?" said one. "Who wroted it? And why didn't Hollis bring
the camphor bottle athout my asking?" said the other.

But the older children knew better than to speak just then. As soon as
Mrs. Allen could get her breath, she said,--

"Don't be frightened, dears. It is only a message from your Uncle
Augustus. He can't come home to-night, as we expected. He says, 'One of
my old attacks. Nothing serious. Can you come?'"

"O, is that all?" said Dotty, and ceased fanning her auntie with a
book-cover.

"O, is that all?" echoed Fly, and left off patting her cheek with a
pencil.

"But, children," said Horace, "don't you understand Uncle Augustus is
sick--wants auntie to go and take care of him?"

"Why, he can't have her."

"Indeed, Miss Dot, and why not?"

"She's got company, you know."

"There, little sister! I wouldn't think that of you? Poor Uncle
Augustus!"

"But he says he isn't serious," said Dotty, looking ashamed. "Auntie,
you don't think he's serious--do you?"

"No, dear; he's suffering very much, but I am not in the least alarmed.
He has had just such attacks as this ever since he came out of the army.
He is at a hotel in Trenton, New Jersey, and needs some one to wait upon
him, who knows just what to do. I am very sorry to go and leave my
company, Dotty, but--"

"O, auntie, you ought to go," cried Dotty.

"I dislike particularly not to be polite."

"O, auntie, you will be _'tic'ly_ polite," cried little Echo. "Please
let me go, too; I won't make no noise."

"How long do you think you'll have to stay, auntie?" said Prudy.

"I cannot tell, dear. These attacks are usually short, and I think quite
likely your uncle can come home to-mo