as he may. I will not make a fuss, if I can help it,
unless he is very unreasonable indeed, and when I get well I will submit
to be coddled in an exemplary manner; I only wonder when I shall feel up
to anything again! O! what a nuisance it is to have this swimming head
and aching knees, all by the fault of that Carey!"

Uncle Geoffrey said no more, for he thought a hint often was more useful
than a lecture, even if Fred had been in a state for the latter, and
besides he was in greater request than ever on this last evening, so
much so that it seemed as if no one was going to spare him even to have
half an hour's talk with his wife. He did find the time for this at
last, however, and his first question was, "What do you think of the
little Bee?"

"I think with great hope, much more satisfactorily than I have been able
to do for some time past," was the answer.

"Poor child, she has felt it very deeply," said he, "I have been grieved
to have so little time to bestow on her."

"I am disposed to think," said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, thoughtfully,
"that it was the best thing for her to be thrown on herself. Too much
talk has always been the mischief with her, as with many another only
child, and it struck me to-day as a very good sign that she said so
little. There was something very touching in the complete absence of
moralizing to-day."

"None of her sensible sayings," said her father, with a gratified though
a grave smile. "It was perfectly open confession, and yet with no self
in it. Ever since the accident there has been a staidness and sedateness
about her manner which seemed like great improvement, as far as I have
seen. And when it was proposed for her to go to Lady Susan, I was much
pleased with her, she was so simple: 'Very well,' she said, 'I hope I
shall be able to make her comfortable:' no begging off, no heroism. And
really, Beatrice, don't you think we could make some other arrangement?
It is too great a penance for her, poor child. Lady Susan will do very
well, and I can have an eye to her; I am much inclined to leave the poor
little Queen here with you."

"No, no, Geoffrey," said his wife, "that would never do: I do not mean
on my aunt's account, but on the Busy Bee's; I am sure, wish it as we
may," and the tears were in her eyes, "this is no time for even the
semblance of neglecting a duty for her sake."

"Not so much hers as yours," said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, "you have more
on your hands than I li