“You are nervous about going to Netherton, Merle,” she returned, at once, looking at me more keenly than usual. “You are quite pale this evening. Put down those toys; Hannah can pack them, with Rhoda’s help; I will not have you tire yourself any more to-night.” “I am not tired,” I faltered, but the foolish tears rushed to my eyes. Did she have an idea, I wonder, how hard I felt it would be to leave her the next day. As the thought passed through my mind she took the chair beside me. “The carriage has not come yet, Anderson will let me know when my husband is ready for me; we shall have time for a talk. You are a little down-hearted to-night, Merle; you are dreading leaving us to-morrow.” “I am sorry to leave you,” I returned, and now I could not keep the tears back. “I shall miss you, too,” she replied, kindly; “I am getting to know you so well, Merle. I think we understand each other, and then I am so grateful to you for loving my children; no one has ever been so good to them before.” “I am only doing my duty to them and you.” “Perhaps so; but then how few do their duty? How few try to act up to so high a standard. I am dull myself to-night, Merle. No one knows how I feel parting with my children; I try not to indulge in nervous fancies, but I cannot feel happy and at rest when they are away from me.” “It is very hard for you,” was my answer to this. “It is not quite so hard this time,” she returned, hastily; “I feel they will be safe with you, Merle, that you will watch over them as though they were your own. I know you will justify my trust.” “You may be assured that I will do my best for them.” “I know that,” returned my mistress, gently. “You will write to me, will you not, and give me full particulars about my darlings. I think you will like Marshlands; my sister Gay is very bright and winning, and my father is always kind.” “Mrs. Markham?” I stammered. “Oh, my sister Adelaide; she will be too much occupied with her own boy and her own affairs to trouble you much. If you are in any difficulty write to me and I will help you. Now I must say good-night. Have I done you any good, Merle? Have the fears lessened?” “You always do me good,” I answered, gratefully, as she put out her slim hand to me; and, indeed, her few sympathising words had lifted a little of the weight. When she had left the nursery I sat down and wrote a long letter to Aunt Agatha, bidding her good-bye, and speaking cheerfully of our intended flitting. When the next day came I woke far more cheerful. The bright sunshine, Joyce’s excitement, and Hannah’s happy looks stimulated me to courage. There was little time for thought, for there was still much to be done before the carriage came round for us. Mrs. Morton accompanied us to the station, and did not quit the platform until our train moved off. “Remember, Merle, I trust them to you,” were her last words before we left her there alone in the summer sunshine. (_To be continued._) [Illustration]