"Marcia," he said, "will you do me the favor to write about this to Aunt Wealthy and tell her I have always felt ashamed of my behavior during my visit to you both, two years ago. I could not bring myself to explain then the cause of my--what shall I call it? sullenness? It must have looked like it to you and her and to all who saw me. "But you will understand it now and perhaps have some charity for me." "We had then, Horace," she said, "we were sure it was some secret grief that made you so unlike your former self. Yes, I will write to Aunt Wealthy. May I tell your story to Mildred also?" "Not now, please. When I am gone she may hear it." "Excuse another question. Do you know anything of your little one's looks?" "I have heard nothing; but if she at all resembles her mother, she must be very pretty." "And you have never even asked! O Horace!" "I'm afraid you think me very heartless," he said, coloring. "But you must make some allowance for my being a man. Women, I think, feel more interest in such things than we of the sterner sex do." "Then I think my husband must be an exceptional man, for he loves his children very dearly, and takes great pride in their beauty and intelligence." "I daresay; it might have been the same with me under happier circumstances," he answered in a bitter tone. Little feet came pitpatting through the hall, little voices were asking for mother. Mr. Dinsmore opened the door and admitted the inseparable three. "Mother, I'm cold," said Fan shivering, and her teeth chattering as she spoke. "Cold, darling? Come here." "She's got a chill," remarked Cyril sagely. "I'm as warm as toast. It's real hot in the sun where we've been playing." "I'm afraid she has; her nails are quite blue," Mrs. Keith said, taking one small hand in hers. "Come, dear; mother will put you to bed and cover you up nice and warm, and give you something hot to drink." "Me too, mother," said Don, creeping to her side and laying his head on her shoulder, "I'm so tired and my head aches so bad." His cheeks were flushed, his hands hot and dry. "You, too, mother's little man?" she exclaimed. "Mother is so sorry for you both. Have you been cold, Don?" "Yes, ma'am, and it creeps down my back now." "Take care of Annis, Cyril," said Mrs. Keith, and excusing herself to her cousin, she led the sick ones away. Coming back after some little time, "I found Ada down, too," she sighed. "She had crept away by herself, without a word to any one--poor, dear child! 'not wanting to trouble mother,' and there she lay shaking till the very bed shook under her." "It's dreadful!" cried Mr. Dinsmore, "positively dreadful, Marcia! How can you stand it! I believe there has hardly been a week since I came when you were all well." "Ah, that's because there are so many of us!" she answered, laughing, though tears sprang to her eyes. "Why do you stay here! I'd pack up everything and be off instanter."