"Oh, mother, it isn't that we don't want you, but we do want to have our fun. We can't be young twice, you know." "Nesta said that--Nesta is tired of me, too." "We are none of us tired of you." "Yes, you are," said Mrs Aldworth. "You know you are, you are all tired of me; Marcia is right. You may go, Molly." At that strange new tone, that look on the invalid's white face, a girl with a better heart, with any sort of real comprehension of character, with any sort of unselfishness, would immediately have yielded; but Molly was shallow, frothy, selfish, unreliable. "If you really mean it," she said--"we could quite well spare Susan." "It doesn't matter; you can go." "I'll send Ethel up presently, mother. It seems so rude just when they have come from such a long way off, in the burning sun and by special invitation. And there is Jim--you know, you always like us to chat with Jim." "You can go," said Mrs Aldworth. "I would not stand in your way for anything. It's all right." The sun was pouring in at the window. Mrs Aldworth's head was hot, her feet were cold; her fancy work had fallen to the ground; all her working materials were scattered here, there and everywhere, but she rather hugged her own sense of discomfort. "Go, dear, go," she said, speaking as gently as she could, and closing her eyes. "You'd like to have a nap, wouldn't you?" said Molly, her face brightening. "I'll put this shawl over your feet." "No, thank you, I'm too hot." The shawl was wrenched with some force from Molly's hand. "Oh, mothery, don't get into a temper. You are not really vexed with your Molly, are you? I'll be up again soon. I will, really." "Go," said the weak, querulous voice, and Molly went. "Is she all right?" asked Ethel when Molly rushed down to the summerhouse. "Oh, yes," said Molly in a cheerful tone. "She is going to sleep." "To sleep?" said Ethel in astonishment. "Yes, she didn't wish me to stay. Dear old mother, she is so unselfish. I made her very comfy and I'll go back again presently. Now, I can look after you; I'm going to help you. Sit down there, Ethel, and let me pour out the tea. Fie, Ethel, you have not given Jim anything." But for some reason Jim had darted a glance into Molly's eyes, and Molly thought she read disapproval in it. It seemed to her that he did not quite approve of her. But she could not long entertain that feeling, for she was always satisfied with herself. In a few minutes the whole five were laughing and talking, playing games, passing jests backwards and forwards as though there were no invalid mother in the world, no duties in the world to be performed, no naughty Nesta not very far off. "Now," said Clara, "we must be trotting home, and you may as well walk back with us." "Are you certain you can be spared?" said Jim. "Yes, I'm positive," said Molly; "but to make sure I'll go in and see Susan."