--oh, so many."

"Never mind," said Ethel, seeing him disconcerted. "It is better for
them to be drawn up, and you will soon learn their language. If we only
had Una M'Carthy here!"

"Then you don't like it?" said Mary, disappointed.

"It is time to learn not to be fastidious," he answered. "So, if you
will help me--"

"Norman, I am so glad!" said Ethel.

"Yes," said Norman, "I see now that these things that puff us up, and
seem the whole world to us now, all end in nothing but such as this!
Think of old Mr. Wilmot, once carrying all before him, but deeming all
his powers well bestowed in fifty years' teaching of clowns!"

"Yes," replied Ethel, very low. "One soul is worth--" and she paused
from the fullness of thought.

"And these things, about which we are so elated, do not render us so fit
to teach--as you, Mary, or as Richard."

"They do," said Ethel. "The ten talents were doubled. Strength tells in
power. The more learning, the fitter to teach the simplest thing."

"You remind me of old Mr. Wilmot saying that the first thing he learned
at his parish was, how little his people knew; the second, how little he
himself knew."

So Norman persevered in the homely discipline that he had chosen for
himself, which brought out his deficiency in practical work in a manner
which lowered him in his own eyes, to a degree almost satisfactory
to himself. He was not, indeed, without humility, but his nature was
self-contemplative and self-conscious enough to perceive his superiority
of talent, and it had been the struggle of his life to abase this
perception, so that it was actually a relief not to be obliged to fight
with his own complacency in his powers. He had learned not to think too
highly of himself--he had yet to learn to "think soberly." His aid was
Ethel's chief pleasure through this somewhat trying summer, it might be
her last peaceful one at Cocksmoor.

That bazaar! How wild it had driven the whole town, and even her own
home!

Margaret herself, between good nature and feminine love of pretty
things, had become ardent in the cause. In her unvaried life, it was a
great amusement to have so many bright elegant things exhibited to her,
and Ethel was often mortified to find her excited about some new device,
or drawn off from "rational employments," to complete some trifle.

Mary and Blanche were far worse. From the time that consent had been
given to the fancy-work being carried on in the schoolroom, all in