"The worst is, Ada," answered Nellie, choking down a thick feeling in her throat, "I am afraid mamma looks as if she ought to have 'a thorough change,' and I do not quite see how she is to have it." "She is to go away with papa when you come back." "Yes, I know." "That will not be long, Nellie; and papa could not go now if it were ever so." "No, no, Ada. Come, I am tired and stupid, and have got worried; but I will try and cheer up." Ada looked in her face kindly, and went back to her drawer; while Nellie placed the last few things in the box, and then got up and began to prepare for tea. "Leave that drawer to me to finish, dear," she said at last. "Why?" "Because I know where the things go, and shall be able to find them when I come back." "Very well; and it is almost tea-time, so I will go and see about it. It will be only one day before I shall have it for my duty." She went downstairs, and Nellie was left alone. She would have given something to have had a "good cry;" but she had a great aversion to red eyes and anxious questions; and after a few rather bitter tears, she washed her face and smoothed her hair, and then stood looking out on the May sunshine across the square, and wishing from the bottom of her heart she were not going. Her eye fell upon her Bible lying close to her, and the sight of it reminded her that she never sought its help in vain. She opened the leaves, thinking, "This is my Father's message, straight from Him to me; it must comfort me." She turned over the pages at the Psalms till her eyes fell upon some of her favourite words—words that had been her trust many times before: "He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty." Then she knelt down at the table, and laid her head on the open page, and before long her heart had found its rest again, "under the shadow of the Almighty." So it was a cheerful face that came down to tea, and no one but Ada knew that there had been that bit of home-sickness and fear, and she kept it to herself; for Ada "hated gossip," and if she found out someone's thoughts by accident, she always felt it to be a sacred trust, in great things or small. The evening passed away in games and reading, and the next morning all were early; for Nellie's train started from Waterloo at ten o'clock. Mrs. Arundel and Dolly were to go to see her off. Arthur and Ada would both have enjoyed to do this; but then school could on no account be neglected, and so they could only grumble and wish her good-bye, with many regrets at the inexorable nature of their duties. Netta, Isabel, and Dolly were to have lessons with their mother during Nellie's absence, and they looked forward to this as a great treat.