t is no' a cloud of that kind,
the fewer words the better. And time heals many a wound that the touch
of the kindest hand would hurt sorely. And God is good." But all this
was said in Janet's secret prayer. Not even her husband shared her
thoughts about Graeme.

"What a dismal day it is!" said Fanny, as she stood at the window,
listening to the wind and watching the fall of the never-ceasing rain.

It was dismal. It must have been a dismal day even in the country,
where the rain was falling on beautiful green things to their
refreshment; and in the city street, out upon which Fanny looked, it was
worse. Now and then a milk cart, or a carriage with the curtains
closely drawn, went past; and now and then a foot passenger, doing
battle with the wind for the possession of his umbrella; but these did
not brighten the scene any.

It was dismal within doors, too, Fanny thought. It was during the time
of Mr Snow and Will's first trip, and Arthur had gone away on business,
and was not expected home for a day or two, at least. A household of
women is not necessarily a dismal affair, even on a rainy day, but a
household suddenly deprived of the male element, is apt to become so in
those circumstances, unless some domestic business supposed to be most
successfully accomplished at such a time is being carried on; and no
wonder that Fanny wandered from room to room, in an uncomfortable state
of mind.

Graeme and Rose were not uncomfortable. Rose had a way of putting aside
difficult music to be practised on rainy days, and she was apt to become
so engrossed in her pleasant occupation, as to take little heed of what
was going on about her, and all Fanny's exclamations of discontent were
lost on her. Graeme was writing letters in the back parlour, and Mrs
Snow was supposed to be taking her after-dinner's rest, up-stairs, but
she came into the room in time to hear Fanny exclaim petulantly,--

"And we were very foolish to have an early dinner. That would have been
something to look forward to. And no one can possibly call. Even Mr
Green would be better than nobody--or even Charlie Millar."

"These gentlemen would be highly flattered if they heard you," said
Rose, laughing, as she rose to draw forward the arm-chair, to Mrs Snow.

"Are you not tired playing Rose," said Fanny, fretfully.

"By no means. I hope my playing does not disturb you. I think this
march is charming. Come and try it."

"No, I thank you. If th