y natural
solicitude to feel for their fatigues and wants as travellers.

"Poor dears! how tired you must both be! and now, what will you have? I
began to think you would never come. Betsey and I have been watching for
you this half-hour. And when did you get anything to eat? And what would
you like to have now? I could not tell whether you would be for some
meat, or only a dish of tea, after your journey, or else I would have
got something ready. And now I am afraid Campbell will be here before
there is time to dress a steak, and we have no butcher at hand. It is
very inconvenient to have no butcher in the street. We were better off
in our last house. Perhaps you would like some tea as soon as it can be
got."

They both declared they should prefer it to anything. "Then, Betsey, my
dear, run into the kitchen and see if Rebecca has put the water on; and
tell her to bring in the tea-things as soon as she can. I wish we could
get the bell mended; but Betsey is a very handy little messenger."

Betsey went with alacrity, proud to shew her abilities before her fine
new sister.

"Dear me!" continued the anxious mother, "what a sad fire we have got,
and I dare say you are both starved with cold. Draw your chair nearer,
my dear. I cannot think what Rebecca has been about. I am sure I told
her to bring some coals half an hour ago. Susan, you should have taken
care of the fire."

"I was upstairs, mama, moving my things," said Susan, in a fearless,
self-defending tone, which startled Fanny. "You know you had but just
settled that my sister Fanny and I should have the other room; and I
could not get Rebecca to give me any help."

Farther discussion was prevented by various bustles: first, the driver
came to be paid; then there was a squabble between Sam and Rebecca about
the manner of carrying up his sister's trunk, which he would manage all
his own way; and lastly, in walked Mr. Price himself, his own loud voice
preceding him, as with something of the oath kind he kicked away his
son's port-manteau and his daughter's bandbox in the passage, and called
out for a candle; no candle was brought, however, and he walked into the
room.

Fanny with doubting feelings had risen to meet him, but sank down again
on finding herself undistinguished in the dusk, and unthought of. With
a friendly shake of his son's hand, and an eager voice, he instantly
began--"Ha! welcome back, my boy. Glad to see you. Have you heard the
news? The Thrush