ury in comparison. I'd go to mother at once, if I
were strong enough, but I'm not. So, what do you suggest, little girl?"

"I think we ought to sound your father on the matter first. He is
difficult to approach. He has a trick of making you feel that he prefers
to bear his sorrow alone; but I think it can be managed, if we use a
little harmless deception."

"How?"

"Well, first of all, it wouldn't be a bad idea to get Jane to turn your
mother's room out, and clean it as if getting ready for the return of the
mistress of the house."

"I see," cried Dick, with a spasmodic tightening of the right hand which
rested on Dora's shoulder. "Give father the impression that she's coming
back, just to see how he takes it."

"Yes."

"Good! Set about it to-day."

"I'll find Jane at once. And, now, I've been here with you quite a long
time, and there are many things for me to attend to."

"No, not yet," he pleaded with an invalid's sigh, a very mechanical one;
but he had found it effectual in reaching Dora's heart on previous
occasions. It was efficacious to-day. Her heart was full to bursting with
joy and love and--the spring. Dick again raised the delicate question of
the date of their marriage, and Dora no longer procrastinated. It should
take place as soon as ever the rector and his wife were reconciled.

* * * * *

John Swinton, who was just beginning to move about the house, white-faced
and shaky, with a lustreless eye and snow-white head, was awakened from
his torpor by a tremendous bustling up and down stairs. Furniture strewed
the landing outside his wife's room, and it was evident that something
was going on.

"What is happening?" he asked on one occasion, when he found the road to
the staircase absolutely barred.

"The mistress's room is being prepared for her return," replied Jane, to
whom the query was addressed.

He started as though someone had struck him in the breast.

"Coming home," he gasped, staring at the woman with dropped jaw and
wondering eye.

"Miss Dora's orders, sir. She said the room might be wanted any day now,
and it must be cleaned."

"Coming home," murmured the rector, as he steadied himself with the aid
of the banister, "coming home! coming home!" There was a different
inflection in his voice each time he repeated the phrase. Tenderness
crept into the words, and tears streamed down his cheeks, as he passed
slowly into his study. "Coming hom