The very worst day of all, was the day when, having trusted Jem to drive
the little ones a few miles down the river to pay a farewell visit, Mrs
Inglis, with David and Violet, went into the study to take down her
husband's books. And yet that day had such an ending, as to teach the
widow still another lesson of grateful trust.

It was a long time before they came to the books. Papers, magazines,
pamphlets--all such things as will, in the course of years, find a place
on the shelves or in the drawers of one who interests himself in all
that is going on in the world--had accumulated in the study; and all
these had to be moved and assorted, for keeping, or destroying, or
giving away. Sermons and manuscripts, hitherto never touched but by the
hand that had written them, had to be disturbed; old letters--some from
the living and some from the dead--were taken from the secret places
where they had lain for years, and over every one of these Mrs Inglis
lingered with love and pain unspeakable.

"Never mind, Davie! Take no notice, Violet, love!" she said, once or
twice, when a sudden cry or a gush of tears startled them; and so very
few words were spoken all day. The two children sat near her, folding,
arranging and putting aside the papers as she bade them, when they had
passed through her hands.

"Wouldn't it have been better to put them together and pack them up
without trying to arrange them, mamma?" said David, at last, as his
mother paused to press her hands on her aching temples.

"Perhaps it would have been better. But it must have been done some
time; and it is nearly over now."

"And the books? Must we wait for another day? We have not many days
now, mamma!"

"Not many! Still, I think, we must wait. I have done all I am able to
do to-day. Yes, I know you and Violet could do it; but I would like to
help, and we will wait till to-morrow."

"And, besides, mamma," said Letty, from the window, "here is Miss Bethia
coming up the street. And, mamma, dear, shouldn't you go and lie down
now, and I could tell her that you have a headache, and that you ought
not to be disturbed?"

But Mrs Inglis could hardly have accomplished that, even if she had
tried at once, for almost before Violet had done speaking, Miss Bethia
was upon them. Her greetings were brief and abrupt, as usual; and then
she said:

"Well! There! I _was_ in hopes to see this place once more before
everything was pulled to pieces!" and she