nted many instances of the
children's kindness and consideration: Bertie's hearty resolution not to
be daunted by anything; Eddie's supreme patience at the office and
steady work at home; and the untiring efforts of little Agnes to add
her mite to the general fund, though of course she often failed to
dispose of her cards, some of which, nevertheless, were adapting
themselves to other circumstances, and forming a very handsome screen to
keep the draughts from Aunt Amy's chair.

"We are not only living within our income, but saving something for the
proverbial 'rainy day,'" Mrs. Clair said one evening, when Mr. Murray
dropped in. "We have been here only three months, and have done ever so
much better than I expected, thanks to your good advice; and we are all
ever so much happier than I ever hoped to be again, which shows that
sorrow is but a short-lived suffering if we do not nurse and cherish it.
And then Eddie is so polite and attentive to every one now, and he used
to be so proud and haughty. I really can't understand the change in
him."

"'Sweet are the uses of adversity,'" Mr. Murray quoted, with a peculiar
smile. "There was talent and good sense in Eddie after all, though I
sometimes half doubted it. Some day he will see the wisdom of his
choice, and be glad to feel that he laboured with his hands to do the
thing that is right."

Winter came and went; spring broadened into summer; and still the boys
worked on bravely: Bertie at Mr. Gregory's office, Eddie at the
timber-yard, Agnes working pretty crewel mats and toilet-covers, by way
of change from painting; and Mrs. Clair, loving, guiding, counselling
them all. The fund for the "rainy day" had increased remarkably, so that
when November, "chill and drear," came round again, the boys were able
to have new warm overcoats and thick gloves, and even Agnes was armed
against the sudden changes of weather by a nice soft fur cape, and the
whole winter months passed so pleasantly, that they were all astonished
when Christmas was, so to speak, at the door.

One day, towards the middle of December, Mr. Murray came bustling in,
his whole face full of importance.

"Mrs. Clair, I've called to ask you all to spend Christmas with me at a
country house. I'm a lonely old man, with no near relations and few
friends; but I like young people about me whose hearts are gay and
green, even though circumstances may have aged their heads a little. I
like the boys; I like the demure l