"She loved you for yourself, Stella."
"As you and uncle do, Aunt Mary!"
"Even so. You are as one of our own children; we could not love you better if we had known you all your life. But had you not better go on with your exercise, or you will not get it done to-night!"
Stella dipped her pen into the ink and started her work afresh, whilst her aunt watched her thoughtfully, praying for strength from above to aid her to bring up the child fittingly for the responsibilities that would be hers in the years to come. Presently Dora came in, and when Stella had concluded her work she went downstairs into the sitting-room where Nellie and the boys, having finished their lessons, were enjoying a boisterous, romping game. Soon Stella was proving herself as noisy as the others, when the doctor came in, and they paused. Nellie flew to her father and clung to his neck, whilst the rest drew around him as he sank into an easy-chair, laughing.
"Don't throttle me, Nell! Where's Dora?"
"Upstairs with mother. Oh! here she comes," as the door opened. "Dora, father wants you!"
"Not particularly. I was going to tell you you must all dine at school to-morrow, because I wish the house to be quiet, as a doctor from London is coming to see your mother."
"She is not worse?" the children cried apprehensively.
"No, thank God. I am beginning to hope she is better," and the doctor's face was bright and hopeful as he spoke.
For a minute the children were too astonished to utter a word; then Nellie clapped her hands gleefully, and Dora exclaimed, "She will get well!"