"Your father,
"JULIUS PERCIVAL."
"What puts you in such a turmoil, Anna?" Aaron asked. "What has happened at home?"
I thought he had been duly attending to the state of his own inward hopes and fears, instead of mine. Slightly disconcerted by his gray eyes, the very same that disturb turbulent boys in church-time, I turned away from them, went to the door, and leaning against the side thereof, looking the while up at the sky, I answered,—
"I'm going home on the morrow, Aaron."
"Going home?" he repeated, as if the words had borne an uncertain import. "Pray tell me, what has occurred?"
"It pleases my father to have me there. He gives no reason."
"What will Sophie say? She's hardly seen you since you came, you've been so usefully employed. I hope you have not hurt yourself. I wish you were going back with brighter color in your cheeks."
"There is something in Nature besides mere coloring," I said, and looked for the answer.
It was better than I thought to get.