successful with their hill farms that they followed their father down
to the valley of the river, where they bought the sawmill and built
new dams and a grain-mill, and Sally and Stephen, who both married,
settled in homes near the Barton farm. Then came the building of the
new barn and David's accident. Eleven-year-old Clara, a child in years
but mature mentally, proved equal to the emergency and took up her
role of nurse in the same vigorous way she went about everything--but
she had to pay a high price for her devotion.

David was strong and well again, but the little sister who had been
his constant companion through the weary months was far from normal.
The family had been so occupied with the invalid that no thought had
been given to his young nurse. Now with grave concern Captain Barton
talked with his wife.

"She has not gained an ounce in weight in these two years," he said,
"and she isn't an inch taller. If anything, she seems to be more
morbidly self-conscious and shy than ever. What shall we do with her?"

That was the question. The years shut up in the sick-room had
completely unfitted Clara for ordinary life; she seemed to be more
afraid of speaking to any one, more afraid of being seen or talked to
than ever before. All took a hand at helping her to forget herself.
Sally, who knew what an imaginative nature her small sister had,
interested her in reading poetry, which was a delight to Clara. At the
same time her father and brothers kept her out-of-doors as much as
possible, and her father gave her a fine horse of her own. She named
him Billy, and at once jumped on his back to get acquainted. From that
time the slim, graceful animal with his youthful rider became one of
the features of the neighborhood as they galloped across country. But,
despite all that was done to make her healthy and happy, her
self-consciousness and shyness remained, and another way of curing her
was tried. She was sent to the boarding-school which was kept by her
old teacher, Colonel Stone. He was delighted to have her in the
school, and her quick mind was an amazement to him; but she was so
homesick that often it was impossible for her to study or to recite,
while being with one hundred and fifty girls of her own age made her
more bashful than ever. In despair, Colonel Stone advised her father
to take her home before she became seriously sick, and soon she found
herself again in her beloved haunts. After that time her brother
S