y fell into the old round of duties and pleasures, as loving and happy
a family as one might wish to see; a striking and most pleasant contrast
to the one at Roselands, that of Enna and her offspring--where the mother
fretted and scolded, and the children, following her example were
continually at war with one another.

Only between Dick and Molly there was peace and love. The poor girl led a
weary life pinned to her couch or chair, wholly dependent upon others for
the means of locomotion and for anything that was not within reach of her
hand.

She had not yet learned submission under her trial, and her mother was far
from being an assistance in bearing it. Molly was greatly depressed in
spirits, and her mother's scolding and fretting were often almost beyond
endurance.

Her younger brother and sister thought it a trouble to wait on her and
usually kept out of her way, but Dick, when present, was her faithful
slave; always ready to lift and carry her, or to bring her anything she
wanted. But much of Dick's time was necessarily occupied with his studies,
and in going to and from his school, which was two or three miles distant.

He was very thoughtful for her comfort, and it was through his suggestion,
that their grandfather directed that one of the pleasantest rooms in the
house, overlooking the avenue, so that all the coming and going could be
seen from its windows, should be appropriated to Molly's use.

There Dick would seat her each morning, before starting for school, in an
invalid's easy-chair presented to her by her Cousin Elsie, and there he
would be pretty sure to find her on his return, unless, as occasionally
happened, their grandfather, Uncle Horace, Mr. Travilla, or some one of
the relatives, had taken her out for a drive.

One afternoon about the last of November, Molly, weary of sewing and
reading, weary inexpressibly weary, of her confinement and enforced
quietude, was gazing longingly down the avenue, wishing that some one
would come to take her out for an airing, when the door opened and her
mother came in dressed for the open air, in hat, cloak and furs.

"I want you to button my glove, Molly," she said, holding out her wrist,
"Rachel's so busy on my new silk, and you have nothing to do. What a
fortunate child you are to be able to take your ease all the time."

"My ease!" cried Molly bitterly, "I'd be gladder than words can tell to
change places with you for awhile."

"Humph! you don't know