"Yes. It seemed so horrid without mother, and I've been thinking about it, on and off, for a year past; and to-day, as I painted those words. I thought----" Agnes was standing behind him, her soft cheek resting against the back of his shoulder. "Yes," she whispered. "He seemed to say to me, that the first thing I had to _do_ was to come to Him." "I'm _sure_ it is." "So now you know," said John huskily. "And you did come?" asked Agnes, feeling as if she wanted to understand all before she could rejoice. "Of course," answered John, turning round astonished; "I should not have said a word if that had not been the end of it!" [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER IX. _THE FIRST SUNDAY ALONE._ The next morning dawned bright and clear, and Agnes was the first awake. She slipped on her dressing-gown, and went across to her brothers' door and tapped gently. "It is time to get up," she called. "All right, mother," answered a very sleepy voice, and there was a comfortable sound of smothering bedclothes, and then silence. "Hugh and John, do wake," exclaimed shivering Agnes; "we shall be late for church, if you go to sleep again." She tapped louder this time, and then John's voice responded: "All right, old woman; I'm awake now." "Really, John?" asked Agnes. "Really," said John; and she heard a bump on the floor, and a pattering across the room. She flew back, for if those feet were by chance Hugh's, a wet sponge would probably be trickling down her neck before she had time to escape. She had waked with the heartache, but her brothers' cheerful laughter had turned her thoughts, and as she dressed, though she considered soberly her responsibility as head of the house, yet it was trustfully too, and the remembrance of the great joy which John's words yesterday had brought her, made her so glad, that she felt ashamed of being dull or mopish because her parents were gone. So she went downstairs, looking as bright as if no weight of care overshadowed her. "This is our first day alone," she remarked as they sat at breakfast, "for I do not count yesterday anything, because we went out to dinner." "I like going to grandmama's," said Hugh, "for she always makes us jolly comfortable." "That's Hugh's idea of bliss," said Alice mischievously, "nothing to do--and plenty to eat." "Oh, Alice!" exclaimed Agnes, shocked. Hugh was not disconcerted, as it happened, but answered: "Well, what if it is? We're all in the same boat it strikes me. One likes one sort of ease, and another sort; but there isn't much to choose between us." "Thank you," laughed Alice, who was a little ashamed of her home truth; "but my idea of comfort isn't like yours, Hugh." "What is yours, Alice?" asked John. "A warm fire and an interesting book," said Alice promptly. "Like yesterday," said Hugh, whose memory was often inconvenient. "Like yesterday," assented Alice soberly, remembering something about that which Hugh knew nothing of.