Mrs. Sharp was slow to perceive this, but Hetty had suspected it for days past, and to-night had become fully convinced. She did not lie awake thinking of it, for, like Floy, she was weary enough to fall asleep the moment her head touched the pillow, but it was her last thought on lying down, her first on awaking, and she sprang up, saying half aloud: “It shall be attended to, and this very day, sure as you’re born, Hetty Goodenough!” “What, Hetty?” asked her mother drowsily. “Can’t wait to explain now, mothery; the clock’s striking five; will another time. Just turn over and take another nap while Patsy and I get breakfast.” “It’s a shame! I ought to get up and let you nap it a little longer. What is it Shakespeare says?” muttered Mrs. Goodenough sleepily, turning over as she was bidden to do. Hetty laughed low and musically as she threw on a wrapper, caught up a shawl, and hurried from the room. She was a power in that house, and knew it too. Mr. Sharp was a penniless dependent upon his wife, who, starting in business with a very small capital, had managed by dint of great exertions to add something to it, and at the same time to support the family and educate their children. No easy life was hers, as Hetty said; she had shown herself neither prudent nor sharp when she consented to take such a Thorne to her bosom as the lazy, supercilious, self-indulgent husband who, while looking down with contempt upon her from the lofty heights of his intellectual superiority, whether real or fancied, was yet none too proud to live upon her hard earnings; and instead of showing any gratitude for the favors heaped upon him, was perpetually grumbling and finding fault. His wife bore with and excused him on the plea of ill-health; but Hetty’s opinion, not always kept entirely private, was that he was quite as capable of exertion as the rest of them if he would only think so, and that if by any possibility he could be forced to leave his bed at the early hour set for the rest of the family, and then to go to work with a will at something useful and remunerative, it would have an excellent effect upon him both mentally and physically. But alas! she had not the power to enforce her cure, and he went on from day to day dozing away the precious morning hours, often the afternoon also, then sitting up far into the night at some literary work that never paid. Sometimes it was an English grammar that was never finished, at others an essay on some subject in which the public could not be brought to take an interest. He was soured by disappointment, considering himself a very ill-used man, and could not be made to see that the trouble lay in his selfish determination to do only what he liked, whether it would or would not pay and enable him to support himself and family.