of the children and the little maid. Charlotte Home felt a great
wave of anger and pain stealing over her heart. In her pain and
disappointment she was unjust.

"She is a coward after all. She dare not tell her father. She believes
my tale, but she is not brave enough to see justice done to me and mine;
so she tries to make up for it; she tries to salve her conscience and
bribe me with gifts--gifts and flattery. I will have none of it. My
rights--my true and just rights, or nothing! These parcels shall go back
unopened to-morrow." She rose from her seat, and put them all tidily
away on a side-table. She had scarcely done so before her husband's
latch-key was heard in the hall-door. He came in with the weary look
which was habitual to his thin face. "Oh, Angus, how badly you do want
your tea!" said the poor wife. She was almost alarmed at her husband's
pallor, and forgot Charlotte while attending to his comfort.

"What are those parcels, Lottie?" he said, noticing the heaped-up things
on the side-table.

"Never mind. Eat your supper first," she said to him.

"I can eat, and yet know what is in them. They give quite a Christmas
and festive character to the place. And what is that I see lying on that
chair--a new doll for Daisy? Why, has my careful little woman been so
extravagant as to buy the child another doll?"

Mr. Home smiled as he spoke. His wife looked at him gravely. She picked
up the very pretty doll and laid it with the other parcels on the
side-table.

"I will tell you about the parcels and the doll if you wish it," she
answered. "Miss Harman called when I was out, and brought cakes, and
sweeties, and toys to the children. She also brought those parcels. I do
not know what they contain, for I have not opened them. And she left a
note for me. I cannot help the sweeties and cakes, for Harold and Daisy
have eaten them; but the toys and those parcels shall go back
to-morrow."

Mrs. Home looked very proud and defiant as she spoke. Her husband
glanced at her face; then, with a slight sigh, he pushed his supper
aside.

"No, I am not hungry, dear. I am just a little overtired. May I see Miss
Harman's note?"

Charlotte put it at once into his hand.

He read it carefully once--twice. His own spirit was very loving and
Christ-like; consequently the real love and true human feeling in the
little note touched him.

"Lottie," he said, as he gave it back to his wife, "why do you want to
pain that sweet creatur