Janet looked up. "Mother, dear, I didn't mean it. I didn't mean so bad. Maurice is better than he was, isn't he? He had quite a colour this morning, and was not so tired as he was yesterday; and by the time Alan comes home, I expect he will be quite well."
Her mother put her work down for a minute, and laid her hand upon Janet's fair hair—
"My good little girl, I didn't think you meant to pain me, and I know how you love your little brother. You both help me beautifully in taking care of him, and if it's God's will I think he will get quite well—but he sadly wants care. If your dear grandmother was alive, I'd send him into the country to her for a little bit, to my old home. I know that fresh air would soon make him well again."
"Mother, I'd like to see your home. The house with the roses growing over it, and the school where grandmother taught, and the church, and the green fields, and the hills, and the—"
"Hush, Janet; here's the old gentleman."
Mr. Smith came in and sat down. First he cleared his throat, then settled his stiff cravat, crossed his legs, and looked round on the little party.
"Girls go to school, Mrs.—what's your name?"
"Shipton, sir, Mrs. Shipton. No, sir, my little girls stop at home and help me."
"Help, hum! not much help in them, never is in town girls—think of nothing but lark and fine dresses. Do they earn anything?"
"No, sir, not yet; they will by-and-by, but I think they do quite enough now in helping me."