on very much as other winters had
gone, except that two of the girls living there were full of future
hopes, and preparing for future cares, while the third occupied her
heart and mind with the cares and hopes of the other two. Patience,
however, had one other task in hand, a task upon the performance of
which her future happiness much depended, and in respect to which she
now ventured to hope for success. Wherever her future home might be,
it would be terrible to her if her father would not consent to occupy
it with her. It had been settled that both the marriages should take
place early in April,--both on the same day, and, as a matter of
course, the weddings would be celebrated at Fulham. Christmas had
come and gone, and winter was going, before Sir Thomas had absolutely
promised to renew that order for the making of the packing-cases for
his books. "You won't go back, papa, after they are married,"
Patience said to her father, early in March.

"If I do it shall not be for long."

"Not for a day, papa! Surely you will not leave me alone? There will
be plenty of room now. The air of Fulham will be better for your work
than those stuffy, dark, dingy lawyers' chambers."

"My dear, all the work of my life that was worth doing was done in
those stuffy, dingy rooms." That was all that Sir Thomas said, but
the accusation conveyed to him by his daughter's words was very
heavy. For years past he had sat intending to work, purposing to
achieve a great task which he set for himself, and had done--almost
nothing. Might it be yet possible that that purer air of which
Patty spoke should produce new energy, and lead to better results?
The promise of it did at least produce new resolutions. It was
impossible, as Patience had said, that his child should be left to
dwell alone, while yet she had a father living.

"Stemm," he said, "I told you to get some packing-cases made."

"Packing-cases, Sir Thomas?"

"Yes;--packing-cases for the books. It was months ago. Are they
ready?"

"No, Sir Thomas. They ain't ready."

"Why not?"

"Well, Sir Thomas;--they ain't; that's all." Then the order was
repeated in a manner so formal, as to make Stemm understand that it
was intended for a fact. "You are going away from this; are you, Sir
Thomas?"

"I believe that I shall give the chambers up altogether at midsummer.
At any rate, I mean to have the books packed at once."

"Very well, Sir Thomas." Then there was a pause, during which Ste