tree on the grass; and its pink blossoms now decked the mantelpiece.
These things were almost too much for the old lady. Her black eyes
looked rather too bright, and her pale thin face twitched when she
spoke. She talked a great deal about the goodness of everybody to her,
and said it was almost worth while being ever so ill to find one's self
so kindly regarded. It rejoiced her to see her friends around her again
in this way. It was quite a meeting of friends again. If only her dear
Priscilla, and the sweet children, had been here!--it was a great
drawback, certainly, their being away, but she hoped they would soon be
back; if they had been here, there would have been nothing left to wish.
Hester asked if Mr Hope had visited her this morning. She had rather
expected to meet him here, and had brought something for him which he
had wished very much to have--a letter from his brother in India. She
was impatient till it was in his hands. Had he made his call, or might
she expect him presently? Mrs Enderby seemed to find difficulty in
comprehending the question; and then she could not recollect whether Mr
Hope had paid his visit this morning or not. She grew nervous at her
own confusion of mind--talked faster than ever; and, at last, when the
canary sang out a sudden loud strain, she burst into tears.

"We are too much for her," said Hester; "let us go, we have been very
wrong."

"Yes, go," said Philip, "and send Phoebe. You will find your way into
the garden, and I will join you there presently. Rowland, you will go
with them."

Margaret cast a beseeching look at Philip, and he gratefully permitted
her to stay. Hester carried off the canary. Margaret drew down the
blinds, and then kneeled by Mrs Enderby, soothing and speaking
cheerfully to her, while tears, called up by a strange mixture of
emotions, were raining down her cheeks. Philip stood by the
mantelpiece, weeping without restraint; the first time that Margaret had
ever seen tears from him.

"I am a silly old woman," said Mrs Enderby, half laughing in the midst
of her sobs. "Here comes Phoebe--Phoebe, I have been very silly, and I
hardly know what about, I declare. My dear!" she exclaimed as she felt
tears drop upon the hand which Margaret was chafing--"my dear Miss
Ibbotson--"

"Oh! call me Margaret!"

"But, my dear, I am afraid there is something the matter, after all.
Something has happened."

"Oh, dear, no, ma'am!" said Phoebe. "Only w