"If she had remained in Paris, with her Uncle Ralph and Aunt Gertrude she would have escaped a good deal of hardship," said Lawrence.
"Oh," mamma broke in, impatiently, "how short-sighted you young people are! You look at everything from your own point of view. It is not of Grace I am thinking so much. I am considering her mother and the girls and her poor, worn-out father. I couldn't sleep last night, thinking of the Wainwrights. Mildred, you might send over a nut-cake and some soft custard and a glass of jelly, when it stops raining, and the last number of the "Christian Herald" and of "Harper's Monthly" might be slipped into the basket, too—that is, if you have all done with it. Papa and I have finished reading the serial and we will not want it again. There's so much to read in this house."
"I'll attend to it, mamma," said Mildred. "Now what can I do to help you before I go to my French lesson."
"Nothing, you sweetest of dears," said mother, tenderly. Mildred was her great favorite, and nobody was jealous, for we all adored our tall, fair sister.
So we scattered to our different occupations and did not meet again till luncheon was announced.
Does somebody ask which of the minister's eight children is telling this story? If you must know, I am Frances, and what I did not myself see was all told to me at the time it happened and put down in my journal.