'

'I will try to find you a scrap of something when I go upstairs,' mother
replied. 'But just now I must see about getting tea ready. Father is
tired already, and he has a good deal to do this evening still. Yes, you
have made the cloaks very nice, and the little hats too. I'll turn up
the gas so as to see better.'

Celestina gave in without a murmur to waiting till after tea for the
piece of stuff she longed for so ardently, and she set to work in a
neat, handy way to help her mother with the tea-table. They understood
each other perfectly, these two, though few words of endearment passed
between them, and caresses were rare. People were somewhat colder in
manner at that time than nowadays perhaps; much petting of children was
not thought good for them, and especially in the case of an only child,
parents had great fear of 'spoiling.' But no one who looked at Mrs.
Fairchild's sweet face as her eyes rested lovingly on her little girl
could have doubted for a moment her intense affection. She had a very
sweet face; Celestina thought there never could be anybody prettier than
mother, and I don't know that she was far wrong. If she ever thought of
herself at all--of her looks especially--it was to hope that some day
she might grow up to be 'like mother.'

Tea was ready--neatly arranged on the table, though all was of the
plainest, a little carefully-made toast to tempt father's uncertain
appetite the only approach to luxury--when Mr. Fairchild came in and sat
down in the one arm-chair rather wearily. He was a tall thin man, and he
stooped a good deal. He had a kindly though rather nervous and careworn
face and bright intelligent eyes.

'Redding is full of news as usual,' he said, as Mrs. Fairchild handed
him his tea. 'He is a good-natured man, but I wish he wouldn't talk
quite so much.'

'He had some excuse for talking this evening,' said Celestina's mother;
'it is news of importance for every one at Seacove, and of course it
must affect Mr. Redding a good deal. I shall be glad if the new
clergyman is more hearty about improving the music.'

Celestina so far had heard without taking in the drift of the
conversation, but at the last words she pricked up her ears.

'Is there going to be a new clergyman--is old Dr. Bunton going away,
mother?' she asked eagerly, though the moment after she reddened
slightly, not at all sure that she was not going to be told that 'little
girls should not ask questions.' But both Mr. an