tick in a pin! I never could learn those things
of any one else; they show, but don't explain the theory."

They met Dr. May at the entrance of the town, very tired, and saying
he had been a long tramp, all over the place, and Mrs. Hoxton had been
boring him with her fancies. As he took Richard's arm he gave the long
heavy sigh that always fell so painfully on Ethel's ear.

"Dear, dear, dear papa!" thought she, "my work must also be to do all I
can to comfort him."

Her reflections were broken off. Dr. May exclaimed, "Ethel, don't make
such a figure of yourself. Those muddy ankles and petticoats are not
fit to be seen--there, now you are sweeping the pavement. Have you no
medium? One would think you had never worn a gown in your life before!"

Poor Ethel stepped on before with mud-encrusted heels, and her father
speaking sharply in the weariness and soreness of his heart; her
draggle-tailed petticoats weighing down at once her missionary projects
at Cocksmoor, and her tender visions of comforting her widowed father;
her heart was full to overflowing, and where was the mother to hear her
troubles?

She opened the hall door, and would have rushed upstairs, but nurse
happened to be crossing the hall. "Miss Ethel! Miss Ethel, you aren't
going up with them boots on! I do declare you are just like one of the
boys. And your frock!"

Ethel sat submissively down on the lowest step, and pulled off her
boots. As she did so, her father and brother came in--the former
desiring Richard to come with him to the study, and write a note for
him. She hoped that thus she might have Margaret to herself, and hurried
into her room. Margaret was alone, maids and children at tea, and Flora
dressing. The room was in twilight, with the red gleam of the fire
playing cheerfully over it.

"Well, Ethel, have you had a pleasant walk?"

"Yes--no--Oh, Margaret!" and throwing herself across the bottom of the
bed, she burst into tears.

"Ethel, dear, what is the matter? Papa--"

"No--no--only I draggled my frock, and Richard threw cold water. And I
am good for nothing! Oh! if mamma was but here!"

"Darling Ethel, dear Ethel, I wish I could comfort you. Come a little
nearer to me, I can't reach you! Dear Ethel, what has gone wrong?"

"Everything," said Ethel. "No--I'm too dirty to come on your white bed;
I forgot, you won't like it," added she, in an injured tone.

"You are wet, you are cold, you are tired," said Margaret. "Stay here
and dr