e if it depends on her."

Richard made no answer, and Ethel presently felt remorseful for her
harsh speech about a poor ignorant woman, overwhelmed with poverty,
children, and weak health.

"I have been thinking a great deal about what you said last time we took
this walk," said Richard, after a considerable interval.

"Oh, have you!" cried Ethel eagerly; and the black peaty pond she was
looking at seemed to sparkle with sunlight.

"Do you really mean it?" said Richard deliberately.

"Yes, to be sure;" she said, with some indignation.

"Because I think I see a way to make a beginning, but you must make
up your mind to a great deal of trouble, and dirty walks, and you must
really learn not to draggle your frock."

"Well, well; but tell me."

"This is what I was thinking. I don't think I can go back to Oxford
after Christmas. It is not fit to leave you while papa is so disabled."

"Oh no, he could not get on at all. I heard him tell Mr. Wilmot the
other day that you were his right hand."

Ethel was glad she had repeated this, for there was a deepening colour
and smiling glow of pleasure on her brother's face, such as she had
seldom seen on his delicate, but somewhat impassive features.

"He is very kind!" he said warmly. "No, I am sure I cannot be spared
till he is better able to use his arm, and I don't see any chance
of that just yet. Then if I stay at home, Friday is always at my own
disposal, while papa is at the hospital meeting."

"Yes, yes, and we could go to Cocksmoor, and set up a school. How
delightful!"

"I don't think you would find it quite so delightful as you fancy," said
Richard; "the children will be very wild and ignorant, and you don't
like that at the National School."

"Oh, but they are in such need, besides there will be no Mrs. Ledwich
over me. It is just right--I shan't mind anything. You are a capital
Ritchie, for having thought of it!"

"I don't think--if I am ever to be what I wish, that is, if I can get
through at Oxford--I don't think it can be wrong to begin this, if Mr.
Ramsden does not object."

"Oh, Mr. Ramsden never objects to anything."

"And if Mr. Wilmot will come and set us off. You know we cannot begin
without that, or without my father's fully liking it."

"Oh! there can be no doubt of that!"

"This one thing, Ethel, I must stipulate. Don't you go and tell it all
out at once to him. I cannot have him worried about our concerns."

"But how--no one can questio