nly white things.

This arranged, and the walking party set forth, Ethel sat down by her
sister's bed, and began to assist in unpicking the merino, telling
Margaret how much obliged she was to her for thinking of it, and how
grieved at having been so ungrateful in the morning. She was very happy
over her contrivances, cutting out under her sister's superintendence.
She had forgotten the morning's annoyance, till Margaret said, "I have
been thinking of what you said about Miss Winter, and really I don't
know what is to be done."

"Oh, Margaret, I did not mean to worry you," said Ethel, sorry to see
her look uneasy.

"I like you to tell me everything, dear Ethel; but I don't see clearly
the best course. We must go on with Miss Winter."

"Of course," said Ethel, shocked at her murmurs having even suggested
the possibility of a change, and having, as well as all the others, a
great respect and affection for her governess.

"We could not get on without her even if I were well," continued
Margaret; "and dear mamma had such perfect trust in her, and we all know
and love her so well--it would make us put up with a great deal."

"It is all my own fault," said Ethel, only anxious to make amends to
Miss Winter. "I wish you would not say anything about it."

"Yes, it does seem wrong even to think of it," said Margaret, "when she
has been so very kind. It is a blessing to have any one to whom Mary and
Blanche may so entirely be trusted. But for you--"

"It is my own fault," repeated Ethel.

"I don't think it is quite all your own fault," said Margaret, "and that
is the difficulty. I know dear mamma thought Miss Winter an excellent
governess for the little ones, but hardly up to you, and she saw that
you worried and fidgeted each other, so, you know, she used to keep the
teaching of you a good deal in her own hands."

"I did not know that was the reason," said Ethel, overpowered by the
recollection of the happy morning's work she had often done in that
very room, when her mother had not been equal to the bustle of the
whole school-room. That watchful, protecting, guarding, mother's love,
a shadow of Providence, had been round them so constantly on every side,
that they had been hardly conscious of it till it was lost to them.

"Was it not like her?" said Margaret, "but now, my poor Ethel, I don't
think it would be right by you or by Miss Winter, to take you out of the
school-room. I think it would grieve her."

"I would