sobbed to be taken with her, my mother leant from the window, and her eyes sought me.

"Ellen, Ellen!" she called out with quivering voice, "take care of my little Lucy!"

It was her parting word, and it struck on me somehow with a half pang. I may as well confess at once that I had jealousy to face as one of my foremost foes, and it proved often a very combative one. The cold elongation of my name now, coupled with the more loving mention of the little one, roused the feeling at once, and for a moment the blank of loneliness, the pain of separation, were scarcely so present as this torturing throb. But they returned all the more keenly afterwards, and with an added sadness. I understood and allowed that my mother was only carrying out my own wish in making me in a degree independent of her care, and remembering another who stood in need of it. If her fondness did not show itself in a last anxious thought for me, could I blame any one but myself? If I constituted myself the first in one way, and chose to stand strong and self-confident, I must become secondary in another. I could not expect in their fullest measure both trust and tenderness.

I was roused from reverie by the voice of Aunt Rachel. She was calling to me from the library, where she held herself ensconced in a sort of chair of state. The parting for her had been borne stoically in the seclusion of this retreat, and she signified her

pleasure now to have us all marshalled before her for a kind of roll-call.

Aunt Rachel was scarcely a favourite in our circle. She was too full of oddities to fall in easily with a child's fancies, or accommodate herself to juvenile tastes. Her dress even was against her. It was formed on some principle of rainbow effects, which was more curious than captivating. I have often wondered why such dreadful dyes are invented and awful articles manufactured, but wonder must cease on view of the chosen garb of my aunt Rachel. Her pet gown was a mixture of orange and green silk; and, as she generally adopted crimson in her cap, it is superfluous to add that her presence was formidable.

When we answered her summons on the present occasion I, of course, headed the procession. Next to me came Fred. He was three years my junior, but his age, or rather his youth, did not intimidate him. He was a daring boy, full of spirits and audacity. The love of teasing was his governing principle as yet, the champagne of his existence, kept always at high pressure, and ready to be let off at unexpected moments with explosive effect. Merylle, who followed close upon his steps now, was the nearest to him likewise in age. She was just thirteen, but scarcely looked so much, being round in form and rosy in face, quite a chubby child in fact, instead of a slim, steady girl as she ought to have been.

Fred was so fond of her and she of him that he

could make her do just what he pleased, and as his movements were not always worthy of imitation this touching affection was of dubious excellence.

A space came again between Merylle and Dick. The latter was only nine, but, seeing what he was, I might have spared the "only." To have been older would have been deplorable disgrace, with his wild ways and blackened face. Dick, I lament to say, was seldom clean. He had always a smudge somewhere, acquired by some mysterious and infallible process of his own which baffled prevention or detection. In fact, one word will suffice for Dick. He may be simply and vividly described as a “pickle."

George, aged seven, was a solemn child. He spake little, but ate amply. He had large dark eyes, which were not particularly expressive, and pale-somewhat puffed-cheeks. The quest of food was plainly his one object in life at present, and he followed it with a devotion worthy of a better cause. I always thought my mother indulged him too much in this way, and I had sketched out a scheme in my mind for raising him resolutely to a more elevated tone of being.

Lucy, the youngest little darling, has been already mentioned, and as she was the pet and plaything of the household, I need scarcely say that she was lovely and endearing. Indeed, she was the only one amongst us with any "hints" of beauty. Merylle might develop into anything; but, as she stood now, a dumpling was the nearest comparison to be found for her; and as to

myself, too high a colour and too low a forehead, too thick hair and too thin a figure, gave me a grotesque air, as if I were top heavy, and needed some proper ballast to the system.

Aunt Rachel viewed the array set before her with scrutiny, even suspicion, as if we were already in a state of insubordination. As we were not so, but rather meek and depressed, the imputation was irritating, and Fred resisted it in the way most natural to him.

He began an expressive action with his eyes, twirled his fingers into some apt imitation of aunt's head-gear, and caught a foot surreptitiously round Dick, all but sending him flat upon his face. Merylle gave a feeble titter, and aunt pounced upon her forthwith. She was rather afraid of Fred.

"You unfeeling little girl!" she exclaimed. "Are you actually laughing? and your dear parents only driven from the door! They are driven fast from your thoughts at all events. I don't know what children of the present day are coming to! The very name of my grandmother was enough for me."

I did not quite see the connection here, or how the name of grandmother was to bear upon the memory of a mother. However, Aunt Rachel had evidently satisfied herself with the utterance. She struck her hand emphatically on a table before her, and seemed to think a climax had been reached.

I will take them off to their lessons," I interposed,

assuming the authority I pined for. I might not have gained it at once without an intervening lecture, but for a favourable conjuncture. Aunt, luckily, had her pug to attend to, and as this duty occupied the first precious moments of the day, she let us depart with a groan.

"We are to have a holiday, to-day; mamma promised it," said Merylle, the moment we were outside the door.

"Only a half one, as I understood it," I rejoined, "and Merylle, I believe you are a heartless little girl. Would you really wish to go and play at once?"

"And would you really wish to go and teach?" she retorted.

"That is a different affair," I began hotly, but Fred stopped me.

"I tell you what it is," he exclaimed. "We will start for the hay-field, take our books with us, and read under one of the ricks.

-eh, Nell ?"

That's not out of course

I scarcely liked to let the law pass so quickly from my hands. Still, to begin with contention like Aunt Rachel was worse policy again, and I yielded assent.

"We will bring Lucy with us," added Fred, catching up his cap, and popping something like a battered mushroom on Merylle's head. You can have Dick and George."

But this was too much.

To leave me this dreadful remnant of the family while he surrounded himself