"Oh, don't be so sly!" said the girl, with a poke which she intended to make playful. "He is a very good-looking young fellow, too; only, if you don't want to get into mischief, don't let Sister Kate see it." "I know what you mean," said Effie in a steady voice; "but you are altogether mistaken. I scarcely know Mr. Lawson; he only spoke to me yesterday because he happened to be a great friend of my brother's." "Oh, the usual thing," laughed the girl. "It's so very convenient to have brothers; is it not, Lucy?" The girl addressed as Lucy grinned, and Effie felt very uncomfortable. At dinner that day, it suddenly passed through her mind that she must, by hook or by crook, induce one of the probationers to change Sundays with her. Lucy was usually a good-natured girl. Her people did not live in town; as a rule she spent her Sundays out with her aunt-in-law. Effie went up to her when she had a moment to spare. "Lucy," she said, "I wish you would do something for me." "To be sure I will, Effie," she replied--"anything in my power." "I want to go home very badly next Sunday; do you think it would be possible for me to change with you?" "Heigh-ho!" said Lucy, "You want to meet Mr. Lawson; I know your sly little ways." "No, indeed, it is not true," began Effie; but then she stopped, for she knew it was true. She would meet him. "Oh, how little Lucy knows the burden that is pressing on me!" thought the poor girl. Tears suddenly rose to her pretty brown eyes. "I cannot explain things to you," she said; "I would if I could. You must believe in me and trust me. I have a great deal of anxiety. Oh, it has nothing to do with the hospital; it is about my home life. There is a great burden laid upon me. I want very much to go home on Sunday. Indeed, Mr. Lawson has little to do with the real burden, only I believe he can tell me something." "I know you are a good girl," began Lucy, who became grave on the spot. "Of course you shall take my turn if Sister Kate will allow it." CHAPTER XVII. Sister Kate made no objection, and Effie hurried home in a state of excitement which she could scarcely restrain. Mrs. Staunton did not expect her, and the poor girl felt her heart sink low in her breast when she saw that her unexpected arrival scarcely gave satisfaction. There was a nice white cloth on the table, and a large bunch of flowers in a pretty cut-glass jug stood in the center. An attempt at dessert again graced the board, and Effie noticed that a bottle of sherry and a bottle of port stood on the little sideboard. She felt a sense of dismay. "Even mother is beginning to keep things from me," she said to herself. "It is all George, of course! They did not expect me home to-day, so they are having a particularly good dinner. Is it possible that even mother would try to deceive me? Oh, dear, dear! how changed all our life is, now that father is no longer here!"