and sensitive temperament.

Ethel and Norman went up arm-in-arm at bedtime.

"I am going to ask if I may wish papa good-night," said Ethel.
"Shall I say anything about your coming?"

Norman hesitated, but his cheeks blanched; he shuddered, shook his
head without speaking, ran up after Harry, and waved her back when
she would have followed.

Richard told her that she might come in, and, as she slowly advanced,
she thought she had never seen anything so ineffably mournful as the
affectionate look on her father's face. She held his hand and
ventured--for it was with difficulty she spoke--to hope he was not in
pain.

"Better than it was, thank you, my dear," he said, in a soft weak
tone: then, as she bent down to kiss his brow; "you must take care of
the little ones."

"Yes, papa," she could hardly answer, and a large drop gathered
slowly in each eye, long in coming, as if the heart ached too much
for them to flow freely.

"Are they all well?"

"Yes, papa."

"And good?" He held her hand, as if lengthening the interview.