e and Mr. Arundel's. She knew what they were talking about,
and she said:

"Of course I like Mr. Arundel, who is so good about Melville, and came
here solely to try to be of use to him: very few people would have taken
that trouble."

Piers gave a low rejoinder, which might be taken for consent.

"He says, Piers, a man he knows has a bad influence over Melville, and
that he is a relation of his, and that he thinks Melville ought to be
sent abroad."

"To do just what he likes, as he always does," was Piers' rejoinder. "It
is a shame that Melville should bring so much trouble on us."

"Yes, it does seem a shame," Joyce said; and then she went to the bed,
and, kneeling down, kissed Piers' hand as it lay upon the counterpane.

"I felt so sorry for you this afternoon, dear," she said. "It gave me a
great pain to hear Melville speak as he did to you."

"Never mind, Joy, never mind. What does it matter?" And the boy stroked
his sister's hair fondly. "I don't mind; I would rather have my crooked,
helpless legs than be like _him_. Yes, I really would," he repeated.
"But Joyce, don't begin to care for any one more than me; that is what I
dread."

"You foolish boy," she answered; "as if I could care for any one as I do
for you! And when I come back from Mrs. More's I shall have so much to
tell you; and I may get some nice books there, which we will read
together."

Piers turned suddenly and threw his arms round his sister's neck. He was
not usually demonstrative, but he said, with passionate energy, "While I
have you, Joy, I can bear anything. Good-night."

"Good-night, dear; and never take foolish fancies into your head. You
may be sure I shall always love you and be all I can to you.
Good-night."

There is no doubt that a protecting maternal element in the love of a
sister for a brother makes the tie one of the most beautiful that
exists. From the time of Piers' accident Joyce had constituted herself
his helper and friend. Mrs. Falconer in her busy life could not devote
herself to her crippled boy, as mothers of a less energetic and active
nature might have done.

Joyce and she had it is true one aim in common: to hide from the father
the sad consequences of that one rash act which had shut Piers out for
ever from the free, joyous life of his young vigorous brothers. Mrs.
Falconer did this by apparently making light of her boy's ailments, and
inability to do what others did.

It was a good thing, she would say,