ptom enough of the need of not
letting her own silly heart go further. However it might be with him,
another week would only make it worse with her.

"I will go home with papa!" was the ultimatum reached by each chain of
mental reasonings, and borne in after each short prayer for guidance, as
Ethel tossed about listening to the perpetual striking of all the Oxford
clocks, until daylight had begun to shine in; when she fell asleep, and
was only waked by Meta, standing over her with a sponge, looking very
mischievous, as she reminded her of their appointment with Dr. May, to
go to the early service in New College Chapel.

The world looked different that morning with Ethel, but the
determination was fixed, and the service strengthened it. She was so
silent during the walk, that her companions rallied her, and they both
supposed she was anxious about Norman; but taking her opportunity, when
Meta was gone to prepare for breakfast, she rushed, in her usual
way, into the subject. "Papa! if you please, I should like to go home
to-morrow with you."

"Eh?" said the doctor, amazed. "How is this? I told you that Miss Bracy
and Mary are doing famously."

"Yes, but I had rather go back."

"Indeed!" and Dr. May looked at the door, and spoke low. "They make you
welcome, I hope--"

"Oh, yes! nothing can be kinder."

"I am glad to hear it. This Rivers is such a lout, that I could not tell
how it might be. I did not look to see you turn homesick all at once."

Ethel smiled. "Yes, I have been very happy; but please, papa, ask no
questions--only take me home."

"Come! it is all a homesick fit, Ethel--never fear the ball. Think of
the concert. If it were not for that poor baby of Mrs. Larkins, I should
stay myself to hear Sonntag again. You won't have such another chance."

"I know, but I think I ought to go--"

George came in, and they could say no more. Both were silent on the
subject at breakfast, but when afterwards Flora seized on Ethel, to
array her for the theatre, she was able to say, "Flora, please don't be
angry with me--you have been very kind to me, but I mean to go home with
papa to-morrow."

"I declare!" said Flora composedly, "you are as bad as the children
at the infant school, crying to go home the instant they see their
mothers!"

"No, Flora, but I must go. Thank you for all this pleasure, but I shall
have heard Norman's poem, and then I must go."

Flora turned her round, looked in her face kindly, kissed