s looked up at Theo with alarm and wonder, but still they were
not shocked at what _he_ said. He was a man; he had come to the Warren
from those wild excitements of Oxford life, of which they had heard
with awe; they gazed at him, trying to understand him.

"I have always heard," said Minnie, "that reading aloud was the most
tranquillising thing people could do. If we had each a book it would
be unsociable; but when a book is read aloud, then we are all thinking
about the same thing, and it draws us together;" which was really the
most sensible judgment that could have been delivered, had the two
fantastic ones been in the mood to understand what was said.

Chatty did not say anything, but after she had threaded her needle
looked up with great attention to see how the fate of the evening was
to be decided. It was a great pleasure when some one would read aloud,
especially Theo, who thus became one of them, in a way which was not at
all usual; but perhaps she was less earnest about it this evening than
on ordinary occasions, for the biographical book was a little dull, and
the letters on serious subjects were dreadfully serious. No doubt, just
after papa's death, this was appropriate; but still it is well known
there are stories which are also serious, and could not do any one harm,
even at the gravest moments.

"There are times when leading-strings are insupportable," Theo said; "at
any time I don't know that I put much faith in them. We have much to
arrange and settle, mother, if you feel able for it."

"Mamma can't feel able yet," returned Minnie. "Oh, why should we make
any change? We are so happy as we are."

"I am quite able," said Mrs. Warrender. She had been schooling herself
to the endurance which still seemed to be expected of her, but the moment
an outlet seemed possible the light kindled in her eye. "I think with
Theo that it is far better to decide whatever has to be done at once."
Then she cried out suddenly, carried away by the unexpected unhoped-for
opportunity, "O children, we must get away from here! I cannot bear it
any longer. As though all our own trouble and sorrow were not enough,
this other--this other tragedy!" She put up her hands to her eyes, as
though to shut out the sight that pressed upon them. "I cannot get it
out of my mind. I suppose my nerves and everything are wrong; all night
long it seemed to be before me,--the blood on his forehead, the ghastly
white face, the labouring breath. O