ere gay as ever, but trees began to show tips of crimson
and orange, and now and then a brown leaf floated gently down, as
though to hint that summer was over and the autumn really begun. Small
drifts of these brown leaves formed in the hollows of the road and
about fence corners. The boys and girls kicked them aside to get at
the chestnut burs which had fallen and mixed with them,--spiky burs,
half open, and showing the glossy-brown nut within. It was a great
apple-year, too, and the orchards were laden with ripe fruit. Nearly
all the Saturday afternoons were spent by the children in
apple-gathering or in nutting, and autumn seemed to them as summer had
seemed before autumn, spring before summer, and winter in its turn
before spring,--the very pleasantest of the four pleasant seasons of
the year.

With so many things to do, and such a stock of health and spirits to
make doing delightful, it is not strange that for a long time
Eyebright remained unconscious of certain changes which were taking
place at home, and which older people saw plainly. It did cross her
mind once or twice that her mother seemed feebler than usual, and
Wealthy and papa worried and anxious, but the thought did not stay,
being crowded out by thoughts of a more agreeable kind. She had never
in her life been brought very close to any real trouble. Wealthy had
spoken before her of Mrs. So-and-so as being "in affliction," and she
had seen people looking sad and wearing black clothes, but it was like
something in a book to her,--a story she only half comprehended;
though she vaguely shrank from it, and did not wish to read further.
With all her quick imagination, she was not in the least morbid.
Sorrow must come to her, she would never take a step to meet it. So
she went on, busy, healthy, happy, full of bright plans and fun and
merriment, till suddenly one day sorrow came. For, running in from
school, she found Wealthy crying in the kitchen, and was told that her
mother was worse,--much worse,--and the doctor thought she could only
live a day or two longer.

"Oh, no, no, Wealthy," was all she could say at first. Then, "Why
doesn't Dr. Pillsbury give mamma something?" she demanded; for
Eyebright had learned to feel a great respect for medicine, and to
believe that it must be able to cure everybody.

Wealthy shook her head.

"It ain't no use specylating about more medicines," she said, "your
ma's taken shiploads of 'em, and they ain't never done her