aunt?" asked Arthur. "I could make you some by and by,
if you have."

Mrs. Estcourt smiled; but she was not able to remember any window that
needed Arthur's arrangements. So he was left to himself and the rain
again; for the drops were falling thickly against the window now. At first
he employed himself in tracing their course down the glass, but very soon
he was tired of that, and presently Mrs. Estcourt heard a heavy sigh.

"That was a very deep sigh," she said cheerily. "What did it mean?"

"Well," said Arthur, "partly, I think, it meant that I wish I had
something to do."

His aunt thought that boys were very curious things, and wondered what
they could do. She felt almost inclined to echo Arthur's sigh; but she
thought a moment, and then she said--

"Would you like to have a skein of wool to wind into a ball?"

"Yes," said Arthur. He was quite glad to have even this to do. At home it
was not the occupation he generally chose; but now, as he stood with the
blue wool encircling two chairs, steadily unwinding it into a ball, it
seemed quite pleasant work. Mrs. Estcourt had quite made up her mind, that
the skein would be spoiled, and so when her little nephew brought it to
her, wound and unbroken, it was an agreeable surprise, and she began to
have a higher opinion of boys in general.

The day seemed to wear very slowly on, and with the waning light Arthur's
heart seemed to sink very low. So quiet was he, that his aunt could hardly
understand him, and any one who had seen the boisterous, lively boy at
Ashton Grange, would hardly have known him as the same one who was sitting
so quietly before the drawing-room fire in the lamplight. He was sitting
there in dreamy fashion with a very sad, heavy heart, when his aunt asked
him what was his bedtime. A fortnight ago, if this question had been put
to Arthur, he would not have given the same answer that he did now. Then
he had considered it one of the greatest hardships of his life, that a
quarter before nine was the time when he was expected to disappear. But
now he said, "Oh, I don't much mind, aunt; I think I should like to go
now!" for the weary, lonely feeling was making his heart so sick, that he
wanted to be all alone for a while.

"Well, good night, darling," said his aunt, and she put her arms very
tenderly round his neck; for she knew that his poor little heart must be
aching, and that his thoughts must be seeing things that were very far
away.

She kissed