The children disappeared.

The room was once more empty, except for the silent figure who stood in
the window. She could catch a glimpse of her father and mother walking
up and down in the garden. Presently the two approached the house. Mrs.
Staunton went straight upstairs to her room, and the doctor returned to
the parlor.

"Your mother is very tired to-night, Effie," he said in a grave voice.

He sat down in the armchair just where he could smell the sweet-peas and
the Banksia roses.

"Yes," he continued, "I am anxious about her." There was not a trace now
of any of the jollity which had marked him at supper. His face was gray
and worn--his voice decidedly husky. That huskiness in her father's
voice went like a stab to Effie's heart. She shut the door and went and
stood by his side.

"Don't you think you had better go upstairs and help your mother to get
to bed?"

"No; she likes best to be alone," replied Effie. "I want to sit by you.
What is the matter with your throat?"

"My throat!--why?"

"You are so husky."

"I am dead beat, that's the truth of it. I am as weak as a cat, and for
no earthly reason. Don't bother about my throat, it will be all right
after I have had a good night's rest. I tell you, Effie, I never saw a
child so ill as that little Freda Harvey. That woman who nursed her is
an angel--an angel."

"I didn't say too much about her, father, did I?" said Effie, with a
little note of triumph coming into her voice even in the midst of her
anxiety.

"That you didn't, my darling--she is one of God's angels and I say 'God
bless her!' Now I want to talk about your mother."

"Yes, father," said Effie, laying her hand on his. She started back the
moment she did so. The evening was a very hot one, and touching the
doctor's hand was like clasping fire.

"How you burn!" she exclaimed.

"That's weakness," he said. "I shall take some bromide to-night; I am
completely worn-out, shaken, and all that sort of thing. Now, Effie,
don't interrupt me. I wish to talk to you of your mother. Are you
prepared to listen?"

"Of course, father."

"She has been talking of you--she says you have got an idea into your
head that you ought to make more of your life than you can make of it
staying at home, and being the blessing of the house, and the joy of my
life and of hers."

"Oh, father, father, I did wish it," said Effie, tears springing into
her eyes. "I did long for it, but I'll give it up, I'll give it