smiling over her work-basket, the sisters full of chatter, the
brothers full of fun, all the tidings of the day discussed, and
nothing unwelcome but bedtime. How different now! The doctor was
with Margaret, and though Richard tried to say something cheerful as
his brothers entered, there was no response, and they sat down on the
opposite sides of the fire, forlorn and silent, till Richard, who was
printing some letters on card-board to supply the gaps in Aubrey's
ivory Alphabet, called Harry to help him; but Ethel, as she sat at
work, could only look at Norman, and wish she could devise anything
likely to gratify him.

After a time Flora came down, and laying some sheets of closely
written note-paper before her sister, said, "Here is dear mamma's
unfinished letter to Aunt Flora. Papa says we elder ones are to read
it. It is a description of us all, and very much indeed we ought to
learn from it. I shall keep a copy of it."

Flora took up her work, and began to consult with Richard, while
Ethel moved to Norman's side, and kneeling so as to lean against his
shoulder, as he sat on a low cushion, they read their mother's last
letter by the fire-light, with indescribable feelings, as they went
through the subjects that had lately occupied them, related by her
who would never be among them again. After much of this kind, for
her letters to Mrs. Arnott were almost journals, came,


"You say it is long since you had a portrait gallery of the chicken
daisies, and if I do not write in these leisure days, you will hardly
get it after I am in the midst of business again. The new Daisy is
like Margaret at the same age--may she continue like her! Pretty