poor Aunt Adelaide could not
help it. I did think about your going to Cousin
Rachel's. She most kindly offered to invite you,
but, dear boy, she is an old lady, and so
particular, and not used to boys, and she lives so
far from anything which is going on that you would
be able to go to nothing, so your father and I
came to the conclusion that the very best thing
that you could do under the circumstances is for
you to stay at Miss Ware's and for us to send your
Christmas to you as well as we can. It won't be
like being at home, darling boy, but you will try
and be happy--won't you, and make me feel that you
are helping me in this dreadful time. Dear little
Aggie is very ill, very ill indeed. We have two
nurses. Nora and Connie are shut away in the
morning-room and to the back stairs and their own
rooms with Miss Ellis, and have not seen us since
the dear child was first taken ill. Tell your
young friend that I am sending you a hamper from
Buszard's, with double of everything, and I am
writing to Miss Ware to ask her to take you both
to anything that may be going on in Cross
Hampton. And tell him that it makes me so much
happier to think that you won't be alone.--

"Your own MOTHER."

"This letter will smell queer, darling; it will be
fumigated before posting."

It must be owned that when Bertie Fellowes received this letter, which
was neither more nor less than a shattering of all his Christmas hopes
and joys, that he fairly broke down, and hiding his face upon his arms
as they rested on his desk, sobbed aloud. The forlorn boy from India,
who sat next to him, tried every boyish means of consolation that he
could think of. He patted his shoulder, whispered many pitying words,
and, at last, flung his arm across him and hugged him tightly, as, poor
little chap, he himself many times since his arrival in England, had
_wished_ someone would do to him.

At last Bertie Fellowes thrust his mother's letter into his friend's
hand. "Read it," he sobbed.

So Shivers made himself master of Mrs. Fellowes' letter and understood
the cause of the boy's outburst of grief. "Old fellow," he said at last,
"don't fret over it. It might be