and seasons, Ethel would have told her
story, but Margaret, too anxious to attend to her, said, "Hark! was not
that his step?" and Dr. May came in, looking mournful and fatigued.

"Well," said he, "I was just too late. He died as I got there, and I
could not leave the daughter till old Mrs. Bowers came."

"Poor thing," said Margaret. "He was a good old man."

"Yes," said Dr. May, sitting wearily down, and speaking in a worn-out
voice. "One can't lightly part with a man one has seen at church every
Sunday of one's life, and exchanged so many friendly words with over
his counter. 'Tis a strong bond of neighbourliness in a small place like
this, and, as one grows old, changes come heavier--'the clouds return
again after the rain.' Thank you, my dear," as Ethel fetched his
slippers, and placed a stool for his feet, feeling somewhat ashamed of
thinking it an achievement to have, unbidden, performed a small act of
attention which would have come naturally from any of the others.

"Papa, you will give me the treat of drinking tea with me?" said
Margaret, who saw the quiet of her room would suit him better than the
bustle of the children downstairs. "Thank you," as he gave a smile of
assent.

That Margaret could not be made to listen this evening was plain, and
all that Ethel could do, was to search for some books on schools. In
seeking for them, she displayed such confusion in the chiffonier, that
Flora exclaimed, "Oh, Ethel, how could you leave it so?"

"I was in a hurry, looking for something for Norman. I'll set it to
rights," said Ethel, gulping down her dislike of being reproved by
Flora, with the thought that mamma would have said the same.

"My dear!" cried Flora presently, jumping up, "what are you doing?
piling up those heavy books on the top of the little ones; how do you
think they will ever stand? let me do it."

"No, no, Flora;" and Richard, in a low voice, gave Ethel some advice,
which she received, seated on the floor, in a mood between temper and
despair.

"He is going to teach her to do it on the principles of gravitation,"
said Flora.

Richard did not do it himself, but, by his means, Ethel, without being
in the least irritated, gave the chiffonier a thorough dusting and
setting-to-rights, sorting magazines, burning old catalogues, and
finding her own long-lost 'Undine', at which she was so delighted that
she would have forgotten all; in proceeding to read it, curled up on
the floor amongst the he