Coming in from the shops Fulvia found herself overpoweringly tired and sleepy. Nigel was still with Mrs. Browning, and no one seemed to need her. Anice noted her condition—it was a rare event for Anice to notice anybody's condition except her own—and advised repose. Fulvia meekly followed the counsel, and went to bed. She did not expect to sleep, of course; but sleep she did, peacefully as an infant, never waking till nearly four o'clock in the afternoon of that strange sad day—most strange indeed, but not altogether sad, to Fulvia. Yet she grieved sincerely over her "padre's" death. How vexed she felt when she awoke—vexed to have slept so long, and vexed yet more to feel refreshed and buoyant; absolutely hungry too! So heartless under the circumstances! Going down into the darkened drawing-room, she found Anice crying over the fire; and the tea-tray just brought in. "O Fulvie!" Anice started up to cling to the elder girl. "I have wanted you so, but Nigel said you were not to be disturbed. He said you must sleep as long as you could." "I had no idea of forgetting myself so long. Stupid of me!" and there was a tingling blush at the mention of Nigel's name. "How is madre? Has Nigel had any rest himself?" "No, he wouldn't. Mother is in her arm-chair just now, and Daisy with her. Nigel was there ever so long, all the morning off and on, till twelve o'clock; and then his head was aching, and mother wanted him to go into the garden for a turn, but he went to the study instead. He has been there ever since, except just a few minutes at lunch; and then he couldn't eat, and hardly said a word. He only said he had papers to look through, and he told us you were not to be called. Mother wants him, I believe. But Daisy doesn't mind being with mother, and I can't, you know—" pitifully. "I think Daisy and Nigel are so wonderful, keeping up, and—Won't you have some tea?" Fulvia was ashamed of her own hunger. "Yes," she said, and helped herself, hoping Anice would not see how much she could eat. Anice dallied with a cup of tea, sobbing and talking by turns. "Daisy is so strong," she said self-excusingly, "and I am not. I never could do things like other people. If I could I would stay with mother, but—when she cries so and says—Oh, I don't know how to bear it." "My, dear, it is not a question of strength, but of will," said Fulvia. "People can do a good deal more, commonly, than they think they can, if only they would make up their minds to it, and manage to forget themselves." Anice was hurt, of course, by the home-truth, and wept anew. Then Daisy entered, with red eyes and broken breath. "Mother sent me," she said. "Is Fulvie up? Mother wants Nigel so, and I promised to tell him." "Anice can tell him. Sit down, Daisy, and have some tea. You have done your share." Anice complied reluctantly. She did not like being sent on errands.