coffee," said her mother.

The supper that followed was a merry meal--Dr. Staunton told his best
stories--they were capped by his wife's. Effie laughed as if she had
never heard them before, and the children made themselves riotously
agreeable.

When the meal was at an end, Dr. Staunton and his wife went out into the
garden at the back of the house. He drew his arm round her waist, and
they walked up and down together on the little rose path at the top of
the garden.

Effie watched them from the parlor window. There was a queer lump in her
throat. She could not get over the strange sensation of nervousness and
coming disaster. The foreboding which filled her could not be fought
down. She had laughed almost against her will at supper-time, but now
she ceased to smile--she no longer made the faintest attempt to be
cheerful. She hated the pretty room, and the sweet-peas, and the roses
and mignonette.

The children were idly lolling about. She turned, and spoke almost
crossly.

"Don't you know, Aggie, that it is long past the younger children's hour
for staying up? Can't you make yourself useful for once, and go up and
put them to bed?"

"Can't you come, Effie--we'd much rather have you," said little Phil and
Walter, the brother next in age. "Agnes is so cross, she pulls our hair
so when she combs it out."

"I don't, you bad boys!" exclaimed Agnes, coloring high. "Won't I give
it to you next time we are alone for saying that!"

"She does, Effie; she does indeed," said little Phil, running up to his
elder sister, and clasping his arms round her light blue dress.

"Don't, Phil; you will spoil my pretty frock!" she cried.

"Why, you are cross too," he answered, looking up at her. He was so
startled and amazed at this new tone in Effie's voice, that words failed
him altogether for a minute. It seemed to him as if a castle of cards
had tumbled all over his head, and as if he stood in the middle of the
ruins. If Effie were going to turn nasty, according to Phil's idea,
there was nothing further to be looked for in life. Walter, however, who
was older, had more discernment than his little brother.

"Effie has a headache," he said; "can't you see that she has a headache?
We'll be very good indeed, Effie, if Agnes will put us to bed."

"Come along, then," said Agnes, scuttling them out of the room in front
of her. "You must be quick about it, for I have not half prepared my
to-morrow's lessons. Now then, out you go."