"Are you better now?" he asked, kindly. "That is right; put your
handkerchief away, and we can have a little talk together. You are a
sensible girl, Esther, and have a wise little head on your shoulders.
Tell me, my child, had you any idea of any special anxiety or trouble
that was preying on your father's mind?"

"No, indeed," I returned, astonished. "I knew the farm was doing
badly, and father used to complain now and then of Fred's
extravagance, and mother looked once or twice very worried, but we
did not think much about it."

"Then I am afraid what I am going to tell you will be a great
shock," he returned, gravely. "Your father and mother must have had
heavy anxieties lately, though they have kept it from you children.
The cause of your father's illness is mental trouble. I must not hide
from you, Esther, that he is ruined."

"Ruined!" I tried to repeat the word aloud, but it died on my lips.

"A man with a family ought not to speculate," went on my uncle,
speaking more to himself than me. "What did Frank know about the
business? About as much as Fred does about art. He has spent
thousands on the farm, and it has been a dead loss from the
beginning. He knew as much about farming as Carrie does. Stuff and
nonsense! And then he must needs dabble in shares for Spanish mines;
and that new-fangled Wheal Catherine affair that has gone to smash
lately. Every penny gone; and a wife, and--how many of you are there,
Esther?"

But I was too much overwhelmed to help him in his calculation, so he