'Papa,' said Ethel, who had been abstracted through all the latter
part of the conversation, 'if you please, we had better not settle my
going till to-morrow morning.'

'Come, Ethel, you have too much sense for panics. Don't take
nonsense into your head. The children can't have been in the way of
it.'

'Stay, papa,' said Ethel, her serious face arresting the momentary
impatience of fatigue and anxiety, 'I am afraid Aubrey was a good
while choosing fishing-tackle at Shearman's yesterday with Leonard
Ward; and it may be nothing, but he did seem heavy and out of order
to-night; I wish you would look at him as you go up.'

Dr. May stood still for a few moments, then gave one long gasp, made
a few inquiries, and went up to Aubrey's room. The boy was fast
asleep; but there was that about him which softened the weary
sharpness of his father's manner, and caused him to desire Ethel to
look from the window whence she could see whether the lights were out
in Dr. Spencer's house. Yes, they were.

'Never mind. It will make no real odds, and he has had enough on his
hands to-day. The boy will sleep quietly enough to-night, so let us
all go to bed.'

'I think I can get a mattress into his room without waking him, if
you will help me, Mary,' said Ethel.

'Nonsense,' said her father, decidedly. 'Mary is not to go near him
before she takes Gertrude to Cocksmoor; and you, go to your own bed