“They wouldn’t need. Davie Graham’s not like you. Besides, they have other brothers, and I have only you.”
“Yes; that may make a difference. But I’m sure I’ve been more trouble to you than brothers generally are to their sisters. I wonder you don’t tire of it, Lily.”
“That’s what makes me miss you so much. Oh, Archie! I thought the week would never be done.”
“It can’t be right for me to bide at Dunmoor, when you miss me so much, Lily. I ought to give up the school for awhile, I think.”
But Lilias would not hear of such a thing. Stay from the school for her sake! No, indeed. That would never do, when he needed to go so much, and when she had been wishing for it for his sake so long! And, besides, it would be as much for her good as his, in the end. She would far rather have him a great scholar by-and-by than to have his company now.
“If Aunt Janet were only well again!” she added, after a little pause; and a shadow passed over her face as she spoke.
This was the cloud that had been gathering and darkening; and it was not very long before that which Lilias had feared came upon her. Her aunt grew worse and worse; and, when Christmas-time came round, she was not able to leave her bed. Privations to which she had been little accustomed during the greater part of her life were beginning to tell on her now. At first she was only feeble and incapable of exertion; but her illness soon assumed a more decided form, and a severe rheumatic attack rendered her, for a time, quite helpless. She was always cheerful, and strove to comfort Lilias by telling her that, though her illness was painful, it was not dangerous, and when the spring came round she might hope to be strong and well again. But months must pass before then, and the heart of Lilias sickened at the thought of all her aunt must suffer. Even Archie’s absence came to seem but a small matter in comparison with this greater trial. By every means in her power she strove to soothe her sufferings; but, alas! it was little she could do, and slowly the winter passed away.
“Oh, so differently from the last!” thought Lilias, many a time.
It was long a matter of earnest discussion between them whether the school should be kept up through the winter, or not. Mr Blair was fearful that it would be too much for the child; but, hoping day by day to be better, and able to take her accustomed place among them, she yielded to Lilias’ entreaties, and consented that they should come for awhile.
Lilias made a new discovery about this time. After her aunt’s illness the housekeeping affairs fell altogether into her hands; and she was startled to find how very small the sum was that must cover their expenses from year’s end to year’s end. The trifle received from the school-children, paltry as it was, seemed quite too precious to be given up. Her aunt’s comforts were few, but they must be fewer still without this. No: the school must be kept up, at any cost of labour and pains to her.