im! He wondered, but he
could not have said so to any one, only his eye brightened, and, as his
sisters remarked, he never seemed half so uncomfortable when papa was
in the room. Indeed, the certainty that his father felt the sorrow as
acutely as himself, was one reason of his opening to him. He could not
feel that his brothers and sisters did so, for, outwardly, their habits
were unaltered, their spirits not lowered, their relish for things
around much the same as before, and this had given Norman a sense of
isolation. With his father it was different. Norman knew he could never
appreciate what the bereavement was to him--he saw its traces in almost
every word and look, and yet perceived that something sustained and
consoled him, though not in the way of forgetfulness. Now and then
Norman caught at what gave this comfort, and it might be hoped he would
do so increasingly; though, on this Christmas Day, Margaret felt very
sad about him, as she watched him sitting over the fire, cowering with
chilliness and headache, while every one was gone to church, and saw
that the reading of the service with her had been more of a trouble than
a solace.

She tried to think it bodily ailment, and strove hard not to pine for
her mother, to comfort them both, and say the fond words of refreshing
cheering pity that would have made all light to bear. Margaret's home
Christmas was so spent in caring for brother, father, and children,
that she had hardly time to dwell on the sad change that had befallen
herself.

Christmas was a season that none of them knew well how to meet: Blanche
was overheard saying to Mary that she wished it would not come, and
Mary, shaking her head, and answering that she was afraid that was
naughty, but it was very tiresome to have no fun. Margaret did her best
upstairs, and Richard downstairs, by the help of prints and hymns, to
make the children think of the true joy of Christmas, and in the evening
their father gathered them round, and told them the stories of the
Shepherds and of the Wise Men, till Mary and Blanche agreed, as they
went up to bed, that it had been a very happy evening.

The next day Harry discomfited the schoolroom by bursting in with the
news that "Louisa and Fanny Anderson were bearing down on the front
door." Ethel and Flora were obliged to appear in the drawing-room, where
they were greeted by two girls, rather older than themselves. A whole
shower of inquiries for Dr. May, for Margaret,