"Oh, Ada, I do believe that the poor father went back to York with a little bit of hope in his heart; for he wrote to me afterwards, and told me that he had found, as I had said, that 'God was a refuge and strength, and a very present help in time of trouble.'" The maid now entered and announced dinner, and Christina rose and led the way into the dining-room once more. Ada whispered on the way, "What shall you do with Alfy?" But she received no answer, as they were already in the room. There stood the poor little man, looking unhappy enough, by the table; and there sat Maggie, as sweet and smiling as could be, opposite. Christina asked a blessing, and served the dinner without taking the smallest notice of the offender. He followed the plates in Ellen's hands with his eyes, but did not deign to turn his head. The meat was eaten and removed, and the pudding came on before he moved a finger. Ada looked appealingly towards Christina, who, however, shook her head. Ellen was just taking up the pudding-dish to carry it out, when Alfy's bravery gave way, and with a sob in his voice he turned to Christina, and, hiding his curly head against her, said, "I sorry, auntie!" "That's a darling!" said Christina. And Ada could not help admiring the motherliness which welcomed the first signs of relenting, and caused her to kiss the wet cheek and receive him instantly into favour. Alfy's dinner was perhaps rather light that day; for he missed his meat altogether. Christina helped him to a large share of pudding, however, but did not keep it on the table for more. "You can have as much bread with it as you want, dear," she said; "but you know it is a sad truth, that if we do not do right, we must suffer for it." So a sunny little face climbed up to the table, and a little face opposite gave an angel's smile to welcome him. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER III. HOME-SICK. "WELL, Nellie," said Ada, turning round from a drawer she was sorting over, "what we shall do with you away at grandmamma's all this time I cannot imagine." Nellie looked up from the depths of the trunk before her, and, pushing a pair of stockings hard into its corner, answered by a sigh. "There," exclaimed Ada, "now I've depressed you. Of course we shall get on all right; and you like to be missed, don't you, Nellie?" "Oh, I don't know! I wish I were not going." "What a goose I am," said Ada, coming over and seating herself on the floor by the trunk. "You will be glad when you are once off. I know the feeling of home-sickness when one is packing up." Nellie brushed away two or three tears, and went on laying-in her clothes, in silence. "You are tired," said Ada ruefully, "and I have worried you. We shall get on very nicely; and mamma says you really do want a thorough change."