These lighter suggestions did not, however, console Cicely. She walked about the room with clasped hands and a very serious face, neglecting her tea. "Papa will never trouble himself about them," she said half to herself; "it will all fall on Mab and me. And boys! that they should be boys. We shall never be rich enough to send them to the University. Girls we might have taught ourselves; but when you think of Oxford and Cambridge----" "We can't tell," said Mab; "how do you know I shan't turn out a great painter, and be able to send them wherever you like? for I am the brother and you are the sister, Ciss. You are to keep my house and have the spending of all my money. So don't be gloomy, please, but pour out some tea. I wish, though, they were not quite so plain." "So like their mother," said Cicely with a sigh. "And so disagreeable; but it is funny to hear one speak for both as if the two were Harry. I am glad they are not girls. To give them a share of all we have I don't mind; but to teach them! with those white little pasty faces----" "One can do anything when one makes up one's mind to it," said Cicely with a sigh. At this moment the hall door opened, and after an interval Mr. St. John came in with soft steps. He had grown old in these last years; bowed down with age and troubles. He came up to his daughters and kissed them, laying his hand upon their heads. "I am very glad you have come home," he said, in a voice which was pathetic in its feebleness. "You are all I have now." "Not all you have, papa," said Mab; "we have just seen the little boys." A momentary colour flushed over his pale face. "Ah, the babies," he said. "I am afraid they will be a great deal of trouble to you, my dears." Cicely and Mab looked at each other, but they did not say anything--they were afraid to say something which they ought not to say. And what could he add after that? He took the cup of tea they offered him, and drank it standing, his tall frame with a stoop in it, which was partly age and partly weakness, coming against one tall window and shutting out the light. "But that you are older looking," he said at last, "all this time might seem like a dream." "A sad dream, papa," said Cicely, not knowing what to say. "I cannot say that, my dear. I thank God I have had a great deal of happiness in my life; because we are sad for the moment we must not forget to thank Him for all His mercies," said Mr. St. John; and then with a change in his voice, he added, "Your aunt sends me word that she is coming soon to see you. She is a very strong woman for her years; I look older than she does; and it is a trouble to me now to go to town and back in one day." "You have not been ill, papa?"