He really was more tired than he had ever been in his short life before. He was but a small boy, and Mrs. Mugford's baskets of groceries and other commodities had weighed heavily. His arms and shoulders ached, but there was an exultant feeling in his brave young heart that he had had his start in life, and that he must work hard to help his mother. He was not long undressing, then he knelt down by the side of his bed to say his prayers, to ask God to bless all those he loved, and make him a good boy. He could hardly keep his eyes open, and scarcely a moment after his head touched the pillow, he was asleep. The next morning he awoke rather later than usual, to find his brother had already arisen. His arms were stiff, and he felt still tired, but after a good wash, he was considerably refreshed, and, quickly dressing, went downstairs. Breakfast was ready, and the children gathered around the table to partake of weak tea, and bread and dripping. Mrs. Lethbridge looked heavy-eyed, and was somewhat silent, but the boys were in excellent spirits, and kept the conversation going, whilst Molly, smiling as usual, put in a word now and again in her hesitating fashion. The father had not appeared; and the children knew well enough that he was upstairs, sleeping off the effects of last night's dissipation, and asked no questions. The boys were the only inmates of Rose Cottage who went to church that Sunday morning, so whilst the sweet church bells were ringing their invitation to come and worship and praise God in His house of prayer, Molly took the baby in her arms, and seated herself on the doorstep in the warm June sunshine. She made a pretty picture, her fair face bent over her infant brother; and the roses that twined around the porch formed a lovely setting of colour, and filled the air with the fragrance of their scent. At first baby was lively, and his sister played with him, but presently he became drowsy, and lay quietly with his blue eyes staring up at the roses. People passing nodded at Molly, and she nodded back at them. Presently she heard her father's heavy footsteps on the stairs, and he came and placed a chair just inside the open door and sat down. He would be at home all day, for it was so arranged by Mr. Talbot that he should have every alternate Sunday free from work at the Hall, and this was one of the Sundays on which he was his own master, to do as he pleased. "Well, Molly," he said, with a yawn, "don't you find it too hot out there in the sunshine?" "Oh, no, father." "How my head does ache, to be sure," he continued; "the sound of those bells makes it worse!" Molly was silent for a moment, then she said: "Do you know what they say, father?" "They don't say anything, child, but just keep on that incessant chiming." "Oh, yes, they do!" the child insisted. "Miss Morris told me what they said."