Then arising from her knees, she looked around with a radiant countenance, and was met by her mother's smile—a smile that seemed to drive away all thoughts of sorrow, so full was it of tender love. The next moment, the cottage door was flung open, and Dick rushed in, out of breath, and pale with fright. "Mother! Oh, mother!" he cried, half sobbing. "What is it?" she asked anxiously. "What is wrong?" "Father's had an accident, and they're bringing him home! There was a runaway horse coming down the street, and he tried to stop it, and oh," with a shudder, "it trod upon him!" Molly began to cry, and at the sound Mrs. Lethbridge, with a mighty effort, collected her startled wits. "Dick," she said quickly and imperatively, "do you take baby and Molly upstairs into your own room, and shut the door. Mind and remain there, all of you, till I say you may come out." Taking the baby in his arms, Dick led the way upstairs, and carried out his mother's instructions. Molly's frightened sobs soon ceased, and the children strained their ears to catch every sound. "They are carrying him upstairs," Dick whispered; "and that's Dr. Bly's voice. Oh, I hope poor father isn't dead." The time seemed endless, but it was actually only half-an-hour before Jim softly opened the door, and joined them. "Oh, Jim!" cried Molly, flinging herself into his arms. "He's not dead—say he's not dead." "No, he's not dead. They have put him to bed, but I'm afraid the doctor thinks he's badly hurt. Mother said I was to come and take you all downstairs." "Will father die?" Molly questioned. "Oh, Jim, do say!" "I don't know, Molly; but I hope he won't. Perhaps the doctor will be able to tell us presently." "Jesus can make him well, can't He?" "Yes, of course He can. We'll ask Him, Molly." So the children crept noiselessly downstairs, and, in the kitchen, they huddled together in a corner, whilst Jim, in faltering accents, prayed for their father's recovery. By-and-bye the doctor's footsteps were heard descending the stairs. He was a kindhearted man, with little ones of his own, and he cast a pitying look at the children. "Will my father live, sir?" Jim enquired. "I cannot tell, my boy. He has broken his right leg, and has other injuries besides, but he may pull through. We must hope for the best. Well, little girl," patting Molly's golden head, "what have you been doing to your eyes? Crying, eh?" "Yes, sir." Molly answered shyly. "Oh, you mustn't cry. That won't mend matters. You'll be wanted to help nurse your poor father; and I can't have tears in a sick-room, you know. That won't do." "No, sir," said Molly. "That's well said. I fancy you'll make a capital little nurse, anyway; we'll see!" and the kindly doctor went on his way, having cheered the children considerably. "We must hope for the best," Jim said, repeating Dr. Bly's words, "and perhaps God will let poor father live after all!" CHAPTER VIII. A GREAT CHANGE.