aid gently on the greensward, or
swung up into a branch of a tree, from which she feared to jump down. No
mercy had Gatty upon the gentle soft Sybil. The only one among the
children who did not seem happy was Oscar. He had no boy of his own age
to associate with in boyish pastimes; he was brought prematurely
forward, from being the eldest male of our company; he had been
passionately attached to his home, and he could bear no allusion to it,
or the probability of not seeing it again, without being seriously
unhappy for the day. Fond as they were of each other, his brother was
too young to enter into the feelings that were unnaturally old, because
forced on him.

If Schillie and Gatty devoted themselves to him for a day, he seemed
more happy, but he loved to mope about by himself with his gun; and
while he grew tall and strong, his face was pale, and his brow
thoughtful beyond his years. Many were my anxious thoughts about him,
and I lamented a thousand times having suffered Smart to leave, for he
would at all events have been some sort of companion to him. Of all our
party, he certainly was the only one who invariably remained grave and
quiet, whatever might be the pleasantries in which we indulged.

Madame talked for an hour upon the dreadful fact of having no new music
for the girls, and used the same phrases and words concerning there
being no shop to buy a new cap as she did to the anxieties we had
endured and the fears that others must be enduring for us.

Her horror at having no chemist near to make up her tonic mixture
equalled the horror she felt at what had become of our companions, or
seeing the girls do anything inconsistent to her notions as befitting
young ladies caused her as dreadful a shock as the thunder. She was
afflicted with fits of dying perpetually, which we remedied the best way
we could, generally finding out that a long confidential talk about her
sorrows, making her will, and confiding her last wishes to us, restored
her as soon as any other recipe. But she was so good, and so fond of the
children, that Madame had but to speak to have us all her messengers;
even Schillie succumbed to her when the dying fit came on, matter of
fact as she was, and scolding me as she did for giving in to it. I had
exhausted all my efforts at consolation in one fit, and sent in Schillie
to take my place.

"Well, Madame," began Schillie, in a great, stout, hearty,
anti-invalidish voice, "better, of course, you a