te hours, Bessie was downstairs the next morning at her
usual time; she always presided at the breakfast-table. Since her eldest
son's death, Mrs. Lambert had lost much of her strength and energy, and
though her husband refused to acknowledge her as an invalid, or to treat
her as one, yet most of her duties had devolved upon Bessie, whose
useful energy supplemented her mother's failing powers.

Bessie had briefly hinted at her family sorrow; she was not one at any
time to dwell upon her feelings, nor to indulge in morbid retrospection,
but it was true that the loss of that dearly loved son and brother had
clouded the bright home atmosphere. Mrs. Lambert had borne her trouble
meekly, and had striven to comfort her husband who had broken down
under the sudden blow. She spoke little, even to her daughters, of the
grief that was slowly consuming her; but as time went on, and Dr.
Lambert recovered his cheerfulness, he noticed that his wife drooped and
ailed more than usual; she had grown into slow quiet ways that seemed to
point to failing strength.

"Bessie, your mother is not as young as she used to be," he said
abruptly, one morning, "She does not complain, but then she is not one
of the complaining sort; she was always a quiet creature; but you girls
must put your shoulders to the wheel, and spare her as much as
possible." And from that day Bessie had become her mother's crutch.

It was a wonderful relief to the harassed mother when she found a
confidante to whom she could pour out all her anxieties.

Dr. Lambert was not a rich man; his practice was large, but many of his
patients were poor, and he had heavy expenses. The hilly roads and long
distances obliged him to keep two horses. He had sent both his sons to
Oxford, thinking a good education would be their best inheritance, and
this had obliged him to curtail domestic expenses. He was a careful man,
too, who looked forward to the future, and thought it his duty to lay
aside a yearly sum to make provision for his wife and children.

"I have only one son now, and Hatty will always be a care, poor child,"
he said more than once.

So, though there was always a liberal table kept in the doctor's house,
it being Dr. Lambert's theory that growing girls needed plenty of
nourishing food, the young people were taught economy in every other
matter. The girls dressed simply and made their own gowns. Carpets and
furniture grew the worse for wear, and were not always replaced