ur of
water was to be heard where it had rushed in torrents the day before,
and the millpond, and the meadows above, lay in the sunshine like a
sheet of molten silver.

In this sudden change, Mr Inglis took cold. It had been like that all
winter. His illness had been very severe, but just as he seemed ready
to throw it off and be himself again, he always seemed to take more
cold, and went back again. It was very trying--very discouraging. This
was what David and Jem were saying to one another one afternoon, as they
took their way down to the mill-dam where many of their companions had
gone before them. It quite spoiled David's pleasure to think about it,
and even Jem looked grave as they went on together.

However, there are few troubles that a pair of skates, and a mile, more
or less, of shining ice, have not power to banish, for a time, at least,
from the minds of boys of twelve and fourteen; and so when they came
home, and their mother met them at the door, telling Jem that he was to
go and ask Dr Gore to come up again, it gave them both a new shock of
pain, and David asked, "Is papa worse, mamma?" with such a sinking of
the heart, as he had never felt before.

"Not seriously worse, I hope," said his mother. "Still the doctor may
as well come up. It will be safest."

Just a little fresh cold, the doctor said, and Mr Inglis must take care
of himself for a few days. The remedies which he prescribed had the
desired effect. In a day or two he was as well as usual; but on Sunday,
when he was nearly through with the morning service, his voice failed so
utterly that his last words were lost to all.

Of course there was no possibility of his going to the Gore in the
afternoon. He could only rest at home, hoping and believing that he
would be well in a little while. Indeed, the thought of the
disappointment to the congregation who would assemble in the afternoon,
was more in his thoughts than any future danger to himself. There need
be no disappointment--at least, the people need not be made to wait; and
David and Jem were sent to tell them that their father was not able to
come, and that they were to read a sermon, and Mr Spry was to conduct
the service as he had sometimes done before.

They took with them a sermon chosen by their father; but Mr Spry was
not there, nor Mr Fiske, nor any one who thought himself capable of
reading it as it ought to be read.

"Suppose you give them Miss Bethia's sermon, Davi