aret suffer, felt his own inability to help,
missed her who had been wont to take all care from his hands, and was
vexed to see a tall strong girl of fifteen, with the full use of both
arms, and plenty of sense, incapable of giving any assistance, and only
doing harm by trying.

"It is of no use," said he. "Ethel will give no attention to anything
but her books! I've a great mind to put an end to all the Latin and
Greek! She cares for nothing else."

Ethel could little brook injustice, and much as she was grieving, she
exclaimed, "Papa, papa, I do care--now don't I, Margaret? I did my
best!"

"Don't talk nonsense. Your best, indeed! If you had taken the most
moderate care--"

"I believe Ethel took rather too much care," said Margaret, much
more harassed by the scolding than by the pain. "It will be all right
presently. Never mind, dear papa."

But he was not only grieved for the present, but anxious for the future;
and, though he knew it was bad for Margaret to manifest his displeasure,
he could not restrain it, and continued to blame Ethel with enough
of injustice to set her on vindication, whereupon he silenced her, by
telling her she was making it worse by self-justification when Margaret
ought to be quiet. Margaret tried to talk of other things, but was in
too much discomfort to exert herself enough to divert his attention.

At last Flora returned, and saw in an instant what was wanted. Margaret
was settled in the right posture, but the pain would not immediately
depart, and Dr. May soon found out that she had a headache, of which he
knew he was at least as guilty as Etheldred could be.

Nothing could be done but keep her quiet, and Ethel went away to be
miserable; Flora tried to comfort her by saying it was unfortunate, but
no doubt there was a knack, and everyone could not manage those things;
Margaret was easier now, and as to papa's anger, he did not always mean
all he said.

But consolation came at bedtime; Margaret received her with open arms
when she went to wish her goodnight. "My poor Ethel," she said, holding
her close, "I am sorry I have made such a fuss."

"Oh, you did not, it was too bad of me--I am grieved; are you quite
comfortable now?"

"Yes, quite, only a little headache, which I shall sleep off. It has
been so nice and quiet. Papa took up George Herbert, and has been
reading me choice bits. I don't think I have enjoyed anything so much
since I have been ill."

"I am glad of that, bu