One day in September it chanced that the house was left entirely to the womenkind. Even Asahel had been taken off by his father to help in some light matter which his strength was equal to. Rufus and Winthrop were on the upland, busy with the fall ploughing; and it fell to little Winifred to carry them their dinner. The doors stood open, as usual, for it was still warm weather, and the rest of the family were all scattered at their several occupations. Miss Cadwallader on the bed, asleep; Karen somewhere in her distant premises out of hearing; Elizabeth sat with her book in the little passage-way by the open front door, screened however by another open door from the keeping- room where Mrs. Landholm sat alone at her sewing. By and by came in Winifred, through the kitchen. She came in and stood by the fireplace silent. "Well, dear," said the mother looking up from her work, -- "did you find them?" The child's answer was to spring to her side, throw her arms round her neck, and burst into convulsive tears. "Winifred!" -- said Mrs. Landholm, putting an arm round the trembling child, and dropping her work, -- "what ails you, dear? -- tell me." The little girl only clung closer to her neck and shook in a passion of feeling, speechless; till the mother's tone became alarmed and imperative. "It's nothing, mother, it's nothing," she said, clasping her hard, -- "only -- only --" The words were lost again in what seemed to be uncontrollable weeping. "Only what, dear? -- what?" "Winthrop was crying." And having said that, scarce audibly, Winifred gave way and cried aloud. "Winthrop crying! -- Nonsense, dear, -- you were mistaken." "I wasn't -- I saw him." "What was the matter?" "I don't know." "What made you think he was crying?" "I _saw_ him!" cried the child, who seemed as if she could hardly bear the question and answer. "You were mistaken, daughter; -- he would not have let you see him." "He didn't -- he didn't know I was there." "Where were you?" "I was behind the fence --I stopped to look at him -- he didn't see me." "Where was he?" "He was ploughing." "What did you see, Winifred?" "I saw him -- oh mamma! -- I saw him put his hand to his eyes, -- and I saw the tears fall --" Her little head was pressed against her mother's bosom, and many more tears fell for his than his had been. Mrs. Landholm was silent a minute or two, stroking Winifred's head and kissing her. "And when you went into the field, Winifred, -- how was he then?" "Just as always." "Where was Rufus?" "He was on the other side." Again Mrs. Landholm was silent. "Cheer up, daughter," she said tenderly; -- "I think I know what was the matter with Winthrop, and it's nothing so very bad -- it'll be set right by and by, I hope. Don't cry any more about it." "What _is_ the matter with him, mamma?" said the child looking up with eyes of great anxiety and intentness. "He wants to read and to learn, and I think it troubles him that he can't do that."