So she would sit, and the song of the sea blended with other songs in her heart. Her father had once said to her, "When you have nothing else to do, it is a very good plan to count up your mercies." So sometimes she would try to remember them all, and the hours which had begun in sadness would often end in praise, and she would rise up to go to meet her father with a peaceful face, which had cast its burden on the Lord. She would traverse the piece of path which ran along the edge of the sea, then cross the beach, and in about five or six minutes would come to her dear ones. Tom would look up to her and say, "We have been so happy, Nellie." And her father would raise his face, with the deep lines of sorrow smoothed out for a while, and would place his book and his little Bible in his pocket, while he would say, with a sigh of content— "I am glad we came, Nellie." [Illustration] CHAPTER XXII. A LETTER. TWO or three months passed away. Ada and Arthur returned to school, a morning governess was engaged to teach Tom and the little girls in the nursery, while Nellie carried on the management of the household faithfully and steadily, as nearly as she could like their mamma would have done. It was not all smooth, and many difficulties Nellie had to bear alone, and many she had to tell her father, and get his advice. Mary, the nurse, was a great help to her, and behaved kindly and wisely to the young mistress. Simmons was so good a servant, that the sudden change made no difference to her in her dutifulness; but the cook, listening to a foolish, mischief-making friend, began to grumble that "Miss Nellie expected more than mistress had." Nellie was sure this was not the case, and was much cast down that she could not manage it without worrying her papa; but she and Arthur talked it over, and they decided it would be better to mention it to Dr. Arundel. "I will speak to her if you like," he said, when Nellie had explained it to him; "but it would be far better if you could talk to her yourself." Nellie knew his advice was always sound, and determined to take it; but she had much misgiving as to whether she should do it properly. The next morning, when she was downstairs giving orders for the day, the cook, in answer to some slight instruction, said rather uppishly, "It never was so in your ma's time, Miss Nellie!" Nellie felt her time was come, and with an instant's prayer for strength and wisdom, she looked into the servant's face, and met her eyes calmly. "Cook," she said gently, though she felt her voice trembled, "I try in everything to follow exactly what dear mamma would wish; but my father says I am to use my judgment, and if I think a thing ought to be done, it is to be done; not because it would have been mamma's wish, but because it is my wish. I am mistress of my father's house now, and the sooner you understand this, the happier we shall be." Nellie paused, and the cook looked surprised, and then somewhat ashamed.