Mrs. Mickle bent her head over her work more to hide the tears in her eyes than because the light was fading and preventing her seeing clearly. The sarcastic bitterness in her son's voice cut her to the heart. Of her four children, Gilbert was the only one who had ever given her much anxious thought; he had caused her many a sleepless night, for his had always been a most difficult character to understand. "I am sure you dwell too much upon your infirmity, my dear," she said presently. "You are too self-conscious, too wrapped up in yourself. Instead of always thinking of what people are saying about you, and regretting the cross God has given you to bear, do you not think it would be better and wiser to dwell on all He has blessed you with? Yes, I mean what I say," she continued, as he made an impatient gesture, "you are far in advance of most boys of your age in intellect, and if you use the talents with which God has endowed you, you may have many opportunities of doing good in the world, and benefiting your fellow-men." "I don't know that I want to benefit my fellow-men particularly. I may have brains, but what are brains in comparison to legs? If my legs were straight and strong, I should be perfectly content." "But as they are not, dear Gilbert, don't you think you ought to make the best of them?" "Oh, mother, it's all very fine for you to talk, but you don't understand." "I think I do, my dear; and if I do not, you know there is One who understands perfectly." Gilbert knew whom his mother meant, but he vouchsafed no reply. He reached for his crutches, and, rising from the sofa, slowly swung himself towards the window, where he stood by his mother's chair, gazing out into the street. Mrs. Mickle proceeded with her needlework in silence, but presently she raised her eyes to her son's face, and he turned and met her gaze. "I'm a wretch to make you look like that," he said repentantly, as he noticed her troubled countenance, and bent to kiss her, for he was really deeply attached to his mother; "it is too bad of me to be so disagreeable. Why, here come Tom and the girls!" And flinging upon the window he shouted to his brother, and asked the result of the football match. "The Grammar School won," he reported to his mother, as he shut the window. "And you are glad!" Mrs. Mickle exclaimed as she noticed the gratified expression on his face. "Well, I suppose I am really. Here they come tumbling up the stairs!" The next moment the door was flung open, and Tom, followed by his sisters, hurried into the room. "Two goals and a try to nil!" shouted the former. "I say, Gilbert, old boy, I wish you'd been there to see us lick them!" "Oh, mother! Oh, Gilbert!" cried Dora, "'Haresdown House' is let!" "Yes, or we suppose so; at any rate, the board has been taken down," Dinah hastened to explain.