window, when we are at play in the garden; and their heads nod at
one another in this way. I believe they never leave off for a minute.
We often wonder what it can be all about."

"Ah, my dears, you and I had better not ask," said Hester. "I have no
doubt it is better that we should not know."

Margaret looked beseechingly at her sister. Hester replied to her look:

"I mean what I say, Margaret. You cannot but be aware how much more you
have to communicate to Maria than to me. Our conversation soon comes to
a stand: and I must say I have had much occasion to admire your great
talent for silence of late. Maria has still to learn your
accomplishments in that direction, I fancy."

Margaret quietly told the little girls that she would write a note to
Maria, with her answer.

"You must not do that," said Fanny. "Miss Young said you must not.
That was the reason why she sent you a message instead of a note--that
you might not have to write back again, when a message would do as
well."

Margaret, nevertheless, sat down at the writing-table.

"You go to-day, of course," said Hester, in the voice of forced calmness
which Margaret knew so well. "The little girls may as well stay and
dine, after all, as I shall otherwise be alone in the evening."

"I shall not go to-day," said Margaret, without turning her head.

"You will not stay away on my account, of course."

"I have said that I shall go on Thursday."

"Thursday! that is almost a week hence. Now, Margaret, do not be
pettish, and deny yourself what you know you like best. Do not be a
baby, and quarrel with your supper. I had far rather you should go
to-night, and have done with it, than that you should wait till
Thursday, thinking all day long till then that you are obliging me by
staying with me. I cannot bear that."

"I wish I knew what you could bear," said Margaret, in a voice which the
children could not hear. "I wish I knew how I could save you pain."

The moment the words were out, Margaret was sorry for them. She was
aware that the best kindness to her sister was to take as little notice
as possible of her discontents--to turn the conversation--to avoid
scenes, or any remarks which could bring them on. It was hard--
sometimes it seemed impossible--to speak calmly and lightly, while every
pulse was throbbing, and every fibre trembling with fear and
wretchedness; but yet it was best to assume such calmness and lightness.
Margaret now asked t