s most improbable that any of it would have come to father.
After all,' she added with an honest smile that lighted up her quiet
face and made it almost as bright as Bessie's--'after all, it was better
for the money to be kept together by Lady Myrtle, than for it to be
thrown away and _nobody_ to have any good of it. She is a generous old
woman, too, in outside ways. I see her name in connection with several
philanthropic institutions.'

'And really good and well-managed things, your father says. She must be
a wise and considerate woman,' said Mrs Harper.

'All the more pity, then, that she and father have never come together,'
said Camilla with a sigh. 'She would be able to appreciate him. I never
could imagine any one wiser and juster than father--though you come
pretty near him sometimes, I must say, mother;' and she smiled again.
'Neither of you is ever the least bit unfair to any one, and it does
take such a lot of self-control and--and--a wonderfully well-balanced
mind, I suppose, to be like that.'

'I have only learned it--if I have learned it--from your father,'
replied Mrs Harper. 'At your age I was dreadfully impetuous and hasty. I
often wonder, dear child, how you can be so thoughtful and helpful as
you are.'

Camilla's eyes sparkled with pleasure.

'Mother,' she said, 'we mustn't degenerate into a mutual admiration
society. I shall tell father how we've been buttering each other up all
breakfast-time. It will amuse him. I'm going to see if he will have some
more tea.'

And she ran off.

By mid-day Captain Harper was established on his sofa in the little
drawing-room, which his wife and daughters still strove so _very_ hard
to keep fresh and pretty. From this sofa, alas! especially now that
winter was in the ascendant even at sheltered Southcliff, the invalid
was but seldom able to move. For walking had become exceedingly painful
and difficult, and so slow that even a little fresh air at the best part
of the day could only be procured at the risk of chill and cold--a risk
great and dangerous. And barely six months ago the tap of his crutch had
been one of the most familiar sounds in the little town; he had been
able to walk two or three miles with perfect ease and the hearty
enjoyment which his happy nature seemed to find under all circumstances.
It had not proved untrue to itself even now. There was a smile on his
somewhat worn face--a smile that was seen in the eyes too, as real
smiles should alway