unwelcome.

Dr. Spencer carried off Blanche and Aubrey for a walk, and Ethel found
Mary at her great resort--Harry's cupboard--dusting and arranging his
books, and the array of birthday gifts, to which, even to-day, she had
not failed to add the marker that had been in hand at Christmas. Ethel
entreated her to come down, and Mary promised, and presently appeared,
looking so melancholy, that, as a sedative, Ethel set her down to
the basket of scraps to find materials for a tippet for some one at
Cocksmoor, intending, as soon as Margaret should be dressed, to resign
her morning to the others, invite Miss Bracy to the drawing-room, and
read aloud.

Gertrude was waiting for her walk, till nurse should have dressed
Margaret, and was frisking about the lawn, sometimes looking in at the
drawing-room window at her sisters, sometimes chattering to Adams at his
work, or laughing to herself and the flowers, in that overflow of mirth,
that seemed always bubbling up within her.

She was standing in rapt contemplation of a pear-tree in full blossom,
her hands tightly clasped behind the back, for greater safety from the
temptation, when, hearing the shrubbery gate open, she turned, expecting
to see her papa, but was frightened at the sight of two strangers, and
began to run off at full speed.

"Stop! Blanche! Blanche, don't you know me?" The voice was that tone of
her brother's, and she stood and looked, but it came from a tall, ruddy
youth, in a shabby rough blue coat, followed by a grizzled old seaman.
She was too much terrified and perplexed even to run.

"What's the matter! Blanche, it is I! Why, don't you know me--Harry?"

"Poor brother Harry is drowned," she answered; and, with one bound, he
was beside her, and, snatching her up, devoured her with kisses.

"Put me down--put me down, please," was all she could say.

"It is not Blanche! What? the little Daisy, I do believe!"

"Yes, I am Gertrude, but please let me go;" and, at the same time, Adams
hurried up, as if he thought her being kidnapped, but his aspect changed
at the glad cry, "Ha! Adams' how are you? Are they all well?"

"'Tisn't never Master Harry! Bless me!" as Harry's hand gave him
sensible proof; "when we had given you up for lost!"

"My father well?" Harry asked, hurrying the words one over the other.

"Quite well, sir, but he never held up his head since he heard it, and
poor Miss Mary has so moped about. If ever I thought to see the like--"

"So the