his study.
He wore his Friday-morning face--a sort of preoccupied pucker between
his eyebrows, and a far-away look in his eyes. Friday is the day he
finishes up his sermons for Sunday, and, as a matter of course, we never
expect him to be delayed or bothered by our little concerns till he has
them off his mind. Sermons in our house have the right of way.

Prayers had been shorter than usual this morning, and we had sung only
two stanzas of the hymn, instead of four or five. Usually if mamma is
anxious about anybody or anything, papa is all sympathy and attention.
But not on a Friday. He paid no heed either to her tone or her words,
but only said impressively:

"My love, please do not allow me to be disturbed in any way you can
avoid between this and the luncheon hour; and keep the house as quiet as
you can. I dislike being troublesome, but I've had so many interruptions
this week; what with illness in the congregation, and funerals, and
meetings every night, my work for Sunday is not advanced very far.
Children, I rely on you all to help me," and with a patient smile, and a
little wave of the hand quite characteristic, papa withdrew.

We heard him moving about in his study, which was over the sitting-room,
and then there came a scrape of his chair upon the floor, and a
creaking sound as he settled into it by the table. Papa was safely out
of the way for the next four or five hours. I would have to be a
watchdog to keep knocks from his door.

"I should think," said Amy, pertly, tossing her curls, "that when papa
has so much to do he'd just go and do it, not stand here talking and
wasting time. It's the same thing week after week. Such a martyr."

"Amy," said mamma, severely, "don't speak of your father in that
flippant manner. Why are _you_ lounging here so idly? Gather up the
books, put this room in order, and then, with Laura's assistance, I
would like you this morning to clean the china closet. Every cup and
saucer and plate must be taken down and wiped separately, after being
dipped into hot soap-suds and rinsed in hot water; the shelves all
washed and dried, and the corners carefully gone over. See how thorough
you can be, my dears," said mamma in her sweetest tones. I wondered
whether she had known that Amy had planned to spend the rainy morning
finishing the hand-screen she is painting for grandmother's birthday.
From her looks nothing could be gathered. Mamma's blue eyes can look as
unconscious of intention