drawers without knowing what she sought, begged to hear how papa and
Margaret were.

"We can't judge of Margaret--she has moved, and made a little
moaning--there are no limbs broken, but we are afraid for her head.
Oh! if papa could but--"

"And papa?"

"Mr. Ward is with him now--his arm is terribly hurt."

"But oh! Flora--one moment--is he sensible?"

"Hardly; he does not take any notice--but don't keep me."

"Can I do anything?" following her to the head of the stairs.

"No; I don't see what you can do. Miss Winter and I are with
Margaret; there's nothing to do for her."

It was a relief. Etheldred shrank from what she might have to
behold, and Flora hastened down, too busy and too useful to have time
to think. Harry had gone back to his refuge in the nursery, and
Ethel returned to Norman. There they remained for a long time, both
unwilling to speak or stir, or even to observe to each other on the
noises that came in to them, as their door was left ajar, though in
those sounds they were so absorbed, that they did not notice the cold
of a frosty October evening, or the darkness that closed in on them.

They heard the poor babe crying, one of the children going down to