is childish eyes could not pierce,
and the sudden carillon broke out as if sung by the angels in heaven.

And a little chill struck to his mother's heart; she knew the service
was a good and fitting acknowledgment of God's care, and yet a strange
feeling went through her, for which she blamed herself, almost like
that of the poor Irishwomen, who, when any one remarks on the beauty and
healthiness of their children, hasten to cross themselves and to murmur
softly "In a good hour be it spoken." For human nature, above all
_mother_ nature, is the same all the world over!

But on their way home she and Mabel talked it over, and decided that it
was better to say nothing about it to Ted.

"It would only deepen the impression and _make_ him nervous," said Mabel
wisely.

A day or two later--a damp, rainy day it had been, there were a good
many such about this time--Ted's mother, entering the drawing-room in
the evening, heard some one softly singing to himself, gently touching
the piano at the same time. It was already dusk, and she went in very
quietly. The little musician did not hear her, and she sat down in
silence for a moment to listen, for it was Ted, and the song in his
sweet, clear tones--tones with a strange touch of sadness in them like
the church bells, was "Home, sweet home."

It brought the tears to her eyes.

"Ted," she said at last.

"O mother," he said, "I didn't know you were there."

"But you don't mind _me_," she said.

Ted hesitated.

"I don't know how it is, mother," he said, frankly. "It isn't as if I
_could_ sing, you know. But I can't even try to do it when anybody's
there. Is it silly, mother?"

"It's very natural," she said, kindly. "But if it gives me pleasure to
hear you?"

"Yes," he said, gently.

"And when you're a man I hope and think you may have a nice voice."

"Yes," he said again, rather absently.

Something in his tone struck his mother; it sounded _tired_.

"You're quite well, Ted, aren't you?" she said.

"Oh yes, mother--just a very little tired. It's been such a rainy day;
it isn't like Christmas coming so soon, is it? There's no snow and no
skating."

"No, dear."

"There was no snow the Christmas I was born, was there, mother?"

"No, dear," said his mother again.

Ted gave a little sigh.

"You're going to Rex's to-night; it is his party, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, "but I don't seem to care much to go."

"But you're quite well, I think," said