"No," answered Ada quietly, "not so much as we are inclined to think. I will try and forget it." Clara looked at her curiously; but Ada said no more. She gathered her books together and hastened into class. She never again alluded to the subject, nor could Clara detect any difference in her; but gradually from that time, they ceased to be on such intimate terms; and Ada grew much happier than she had been for some months. At this time Arthur was extremely considerate towards her. He had been touched by her friendless condition, and in his boyish way, did his best to make up for the loss. Nellie's being away had increased Ada's feeling of loneliness, and she looked forward to her sister's return with a sense of relief and comfort which she herself wondered at. One day she and Arthur were sitting in the drawing room. The weather was very hot, and little Tom had been carried down, and was lying on the sofa. He looked very frail and delicate, and his thin little fingers were playing with each other listlessly. A book which he had been reading lay half closed beside him, and he seemed very weary. "I was thinking, Tom," said Ada, "whether you would like to learn to do wool-work?" "I don't know," answered Tom, turning his head a little. "You got tired of the knitting mamma taught you." "Yes; I really am sick of that." "Well, then, I'll go up and fetch a piece of canvas, and some of my wools." Tom lay quiet while she was gone, only sighing deeply once or twice. "Does anything hurt you?" asked Arthur. "No-o!" he answered. "But I'm so tired of lying here;" then quickly adding, "I don't want to grumble, Arthur; but of course the days do seem long." "I am sure they must," said the strong boy, stretching his legs, and thinking for a moment what it would be to him not to be able to get up and do as he wished. He looked pityingly at Tom, but said nothing. "Here you are, Ada! Have you got the canvas?" asked Tom, raising his head. "Yes, here it is. Now look, Tom; watch while I do a straight row, and then you shall work a few stitches." Tom lost his listlessness and became interested; very soon, he caught the way to do it, and went on by himself quite absorbed, while Arthur and Ada talked. "I wonder what Frank Compton will be like?" said Ada. "Like other boys, I suppose." "It will be a great change for us to have him here." "Yes, something a little lively; but what a long time mamma is gone to the station." "She will soon be here," said Arthur, glancing at the clock; "it is nearly one o'clock now." Soon after this a cab stopped at the door, and they both hurried to the window to see their visitor alight. He was a tall youth of sixteen, the son of a friend in Scotland, and had just returned from his first voyage in a merchant vessel. His father had written to Dr. Arundel, asking permission for him to spend a few days with them, until Mr. Compton should have time to come up to London and join his son.