I never dreamed of."

"'If ye love them that love you, what thank have ye?'" said the old
lady quietly.

"Mother's off now," said Charity; "out of anybody's understanding. One
would think I was more unnatural than the rest of folks!"

"She _said_ you were more natural, thats all," said Lois, with a sly
smile.

The talk ceased. Mrs. Barclay looked on for a few minutes more,
marvelling to see the quick dexterity with which everything was done by
the two girls; until the dishes were put away, the tcib and towels were
gone, the table was covered with its brown cloth, a few crumbs were
brushed from the carpet; and Charity disappeared in one direction and
Lois in another. Mrs. Barclay herself withdrew to her room and her
thoughts.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE CARPENTER.

The day was a more than commonly busy one, so that the usual hours of
lessons in Mrs. Barclay's room did not come off. It was not till late
in the afternoon that Lois went to her friend, to tell her that Mrs.
Marx would send her little carriage in about an hour to fetch her
mother, and that Mrs. Barclay also might ride if she would. Mrs.
Barclay was sitting in her easy-chair before the fire, doing nothing,
and on receipt of this in formation turned a very shadowed face towards
the bringer of it.

"What will you say to me, if after all your aunt's kindness in asking
me, I do not go?"

"Not go? You are not well?" inquired Lois anxiously.

"I am quite well--too well!"

"But something is the matter?"

"Nothing new."

"Dear Mrs. Barclay, can I help you?"

"I do not think you can. I am tired, Lois!"

"Tired! O, that is spending so much time giving lessons to Madge and
me! I am so sorry."

"It is nothing of the kind," said Mrs. Barclay, stretching out her hand
to take one of Lois's, which she retained in her own. "If anything
would take away this tired feeling, it is just that, Lois. Nothing
refreshes me so much, or does me so much good."

"Then what tires you, dear Mrs. Barclay?"

Lois's face showed unaffected anxiety. Mrs. Barclay gave the hand she
held a little squeeze.

"It is nothing new, my child," she said, with a faint smile. "I am
tired of life."

Looking at the girl, as she spoke, she saw how unable her listener's
mind was to comprehend her. Lois looked puzzled.

"You do not know what I mean?" she said.

"Hardly--"

"I hope you never will. It is a miserable feeling. It is like what I
can fancy a withered autumn leaf fe