"Hush, Jack," was my sole reply; for there was dear mother coming
down the passage toward us. I had only been away from her two months,
and yet it struck me that her hair was grayer and her face was
thinner than it used to be, and there were lines on her forehead that
I never remember to have seen before; but she greeted me in her old
affectionate way, putting back my hair from my face to look at me,
and calling me her dear child. "But I must not stop a moment,
Esther," she said hurriedly, "or father will miss me; take off your
hat, and rest and refresh yourself, and then you shall come up and
see him."

"But, mother, where is Dot?"

"In there," motioning toward the sick room; "he is always there, we
cannot keep him out," and her lip trembled. When Jack and I returned
to the brown room, we found the others gathered round the table.
Carrie, who was pouring out the tea, pointed to the seat beside her.

It was the first dreary meal I had ever remembered in the brown
room; my first evening at home had always been so happy. The shallow
blue teacups and tiny plates always seemed prettier than other
people's china, and nothing ever tasted so delicious as our home-made
brown bread and butter.

But this evening the flavor seemed spoiled. Carrie sat in mother's
place looking sad and abstracted, and fingering her little silver
cross nervously. Fred was downcast and out of spirits, returning only
brief replies to Uncle Geoffrey's questions, and only waking up to
snub Jack if she spoke a word. Oh, how I wished Allan would make his
appearance and put us all right! It was quite a relief when I heard