in and about, and everything
has to be kept so quiet when they are studying; and then the parish
people are always coming tramping upstairs with their dirty feet. When
you have only one servant it is very, very troublesome. Sir Robert never
gives any trouble," she said, once more, with a soft little sigh.

"Papa?" said Sophy, somewhat surprised; "but you would not--" she was
going to say, marry papa; but when she looked at Ursula's innocent
gravity, her absolute unconsciousness of the meanings which her chance
words might bear, she refrained. "I think I must send Seton to help
you," she said, "you can not get through all that packing by yourself."

"Oh yes, I am not tired. I have put in all my old things. The rest are
your presents. Oh, Cousin Sophy!" said the girl, coming quickly to her
and stealing two arms round her, "you have been so good to me! as if it
was not enough to give me this holiday, the most delightful I ever had
in my life--to send me home loaded with all these beautiful things! I
shall never forget it, never, never, if I were to live a hundred years!"

"My dear!" cried Sophy, startled by the sudden energy of this embrace.
Sophy was not emotional, but her eyes moistened and her voice softened
in spite of herself. "But you must let me send Seton to you," she said,
hurrying away. She was excited by the day's events, and did not trust
herself to make any further response; for if she "gave way" at all, who
could tell how far the giving way might go? Her brother John had been
married at the time when Sophy too ought to have been married, had all
gone well--and, perhaps, some keen-piercing thought that she too might
have had little children belonging to her, had given force and sharpness
to her objections to the pale little distrustful Indian children who had
shrunk from her overtures of affection. She went to her room and bathed
her eyes, which were hot and painful, and then she went back to Anne in
the sitting-room, who had opened the window to reduce the temperature,
and was resting in an easy chair, and pondering what she could do to
make the children love her, and to be a mother to them in the absence of
Mrs. John.

"I have been talking to Ursula, who is always refreshing," said Sophy.
"I wonder whom that child will marry. She gave me to understand, in her
awkward, innocent way, that she preferred papa. A laugh does one good,"
Sophy added, slightly rubbing her eyes. Anne made no immediate answer.
She