“Her mother!” Rhoda said, pondering. “Is it a good thing to bring her mother? What good can her mother do her? She is not a doctor. I should think Mr. Darrell himself would be more good than that.” “Oh, my dear, the very sight of your mother makes such a difference when there is anything the matter with you,” said Miss Hofland. “At least,” she added presently, “all the girls say so. I never had one, for my part.” Rhoda looked up at her with intelligent but unfathomable eyes, and said nothing. It appeared that the words did not bring any warmer response from Rhoda’s heart. But it would be vain to attempt to describe the agitation and trouble which was caused in the parsonage by Mr. Darrell’s telegram. “Will Mrs. Asquith come at once? Daughter ill, not dangerous, but critical. Carriage will meet nine-thirty train.” “It must be something very bad,” Mary said. “No, my dear, I hope not. ‘Not dangerous, but critical.’ You must not frighten yourself. You must husband your strength,” said the parson; but he spoke with a forced voice, and had grown very pale, paler indeed than she was; for she had so many things to think of, and he thought only of Hetty--poor little Hetty, papa’s pet, as they always called her--ill and far from home. “You must take charge of the little ones, Janey. You must not let them make a noise or annoy papa; you must see that the boys have their breakfast in good time for school, and don’t let Mary Jane oversleep herself. Papa will let you have the little clock with the alarum in your room.” “Oh yes, mamma! I will try and remember everything,” said Janey among her tears. “Get in the books every week, and look over them carefully. Don’t let anything be put down that we haven’t had--you know how careless people are sometimes; and above all keep the house quiet when papa is in his study. You know the importance of that.” “Oh, mamma!” said Janey, “do you think then that you shall be so very, very long away?” “I hope I maybe back again to-morrow, or the day after to-morrow,” said Mary briskly. “It will depend upon how I find her. I don’t doubt in the least home will be the best thing for her; but in case I should be detained,” she said smiling, with her eyes very bright and liquid, each about to shed a tear, “it is so much better to mention everything. Of course I shall write; but, Janey dear, you know you have not the habit of minding everything as--as she had----” “Oh, mamma, why don’t you say Hetty? Why don’t you call her by her name? It is so awful to hear you say _she_, as if--as if----” “Didn’t I call her by her name?--my dear little Hetty, my own little girl! Oh! and to think that it was I that sent her away!” “It isn’t dangerous, Mary, we have got the doctor’s word for that,” said her husband.