"You are the dearest mother in the world," Margaret cried earnestly.
"But very far from being the best. I am very troubled—no, I cannot tell you what about. No, you couldn't help me. No one can."
"Yes, God can, mother," Margaret reminded her; then she quoted softly—
"When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me."
Mrs. Fowler caught her breath with a little sob; but doubtless, the words of Salome's favourite hymn comforted her, for presently, Margaret knew by her regular breathing that she had fallen asleep.
The little girl lay awake wondering what trouble her mother could possibly have, or if she was only nervous and imaginative; and it was not until the first streaks of dawn peeped into the room that she slept too.
[CHAPTER VIII.]
An Awful Thing.
WHEN Margaret awoke, she was alone. At first she was surprised to find herself in bed in her mother's room, but in a few moments, she remembered how that happened to be the case. Before, however, she had time to dwell much upon the matter, the door opened and her mother entered, fully dressed, bearing a breakfast tray in her hands, which she placed on the dressing-table.
"Have I overslept myself?" Margaret inquired. "I am so sorry."