holiday after this."

One resolve Gwen had made, and stuck to with grim determination--to
spend a certain time every day over mathematics and one or two other
subjects in which she feared she was weak. She got Lesbia to bring her
books from school, and every night, long after the latter was asleep,
she would sit up in their joint bedroom studying. It was impossible to
snatch five minutes during the day, but when the house was still and
quiet it was easier to concentrate her thoughts, and she was surprised
sometimes what progress she was able to make. Night after night she
heard the clock strike twelve before she put out her lamp, and once
even the early midsummer dawn stole in and caught her unawares. None
of the family knew that she sat up working so late, or probably Father
would have forbidden it, for it was certainly burning the candle at
both ends. It was very difficult to rise at six o'clock and help to
prepare breakfast when she seemed only to have had a few hours' sleep,
and it was often a great temptation to ignore the alarum and turn
over on her pillow. But having accepted the household drudgery, Gwen
had enough grit to carry out her duties thoroughly, however unwelcome
some of them might be, and to secure breakfast in time was a cardinal
virtue at the Parsonage. To her credit she never once let the others
start late for school, or forgot to place their packets of lunch
ready, and Beatrice herself could not have been more solicitous about
drying wet boots and stockings.

"You're getting quite grandmotherly, Gwen," laughed Basil. "You never
used to care about damp feet before. You're nearly as big a fusser as
Bee. You made my cricket flannels look no end, though. I will say that
for you."

"I like Gwen's housekeeping, she puts so much jam in the tarts!"
remarked Giles approvingly.

"Gwen lets me feed the chickens my own self," said Martin with a
satisfied chuckle. "And she mended my kite, too."

"I wish you'd mend my blue print dress, Gwen," said Lesbia. "I tore it
again at school yesterday. That last darn of yours was uncommonly
neat."

"Are they really getting to appreciate me more now I do more for
them?" Gwen asked herself. "I never thought they cared an atom about
me before. I was always the odd one at home. It's hard work, and a
fearful trouble to do all those extra things, but oh!--it is nice to
feel one's wanted."

At the end of a fortnight Beatrice was decidedly better, but Dr.
Chambers was s