as only feverishness caused by
the heat, when he saw the boy last week, and did not seem to think it of
consequence. The family depended on the mother's work, and in hay-making
time she could not stay at home. Mr. Somers was gone from home, so was
Miss Manners, and no one had thought much about the poor child; but he
had become so much worse in the course of the morning, that it was plain
that his mother and the doctor must both be sent for without loss of
time.

Miss Manners came out into the garden with Mrs. Cuthbert, and as the
aunt and niece came up, said she would find the messenger.

"Had not you thought him so well, Amy?" she asked.

"Oh, ma'am!" exclaimed Aunt Rose, always an outspoken person, "that's
the worst trouble of all! Who would have thought this sly deceitful
child could have made as if she was sitting all the time with that poor
boy, while she was just walking all the time with that good-for-nothing
groom up at the Arms. How I shall tell her poor father, I don't know. It
will be enough to break his heart!"

"It was all Florence Cray!" sobbed Amy.

"Well," said Miss Manners, "of course her father must know about it; but
since Amy the elder is only to be here three or four hours, don't you
think it would be better not to spoil her visit for him? You can have it
out in the evening, you know; but it would be a great pity to give him
such a shock at once. Don't you think so, Amy?"

"Indeed I do, ma'am," said Mrs. Cuthbert; "I am afraid the poor girl may
have been to blame, but it will not be the worse for her to wait a
little while, and my brother would be so much taken up with the matter,
that I am afraid my Ambrose would never know his uncle as I should
like."

"I'm sure it will all be spoilt to me, any way," said poor Aunt Rose,
half choked.

"But you will bear the burthen alone, for your brother's sake and
Charlotte's," said Miss Manners, cheerfully; "besides, you have your
own dear old Amy to help you to bear it, and that is like old times."

This comforted Rose a good deal. Miss Dora--as she and her sister Amy
still called her--said she would not say good-bye, she would look in
before the Cuthberts went, and say how the child was.

The younger Amy was glad at first of the respite, but altogether it was
the most dreadful day she ever spent. There was her father in his Sunday
best coming out to meet them, wondering what had made them stay so long.
Mrs. Cuthbert answered, to save Aunt Rose, t