“Oh, mamma, don’t please be angry. Mar says he is quite well enough to get up. He says it is only because he didn’t sleep.” “Of course, he knows best,” said Letitia. “You are all so sure of your own wisdom. But I hope it will convince you that for his own interests that sort of thing must not be done.” She went away, however, without giving any distinct orders, and Mar got up. But when he was up he was giddy and “queer,” so he said, and quite disposed to lie down again. The tide of life was so strong in the house with all these young people about that a delicate boy was not much remarked. Duke would rush up in the middle of his own occupation with his tennis bat still in his hand, or in his cricketing costume fresh from the village green, and say “Hallo, Mar! no better? You must get better, old fellow, and come and have a game.” And Letty came in many times a day to ask how he was getting on. “You really must be better to-morrow, Mar,” she said. “Mamma puts it all down to the tenants’ dinner, and says you should not have been allowed to speak. She puts all the blame on Duke and me.” “There is no blame,” said Mar; “it is only that I am such a poor creature. I am never good for anything.” “Well, you must be better to-morrow,” Letty would say, and go off to her ride, or perhaps to her tennis which she too played very well. And then Tiny would come in with her hair flying in her haste, as soon as her lesson was over. “Are you better, Mar?” “Oh, yes a little, but I shall not go downstairs to-day,” the boy would say, smiling at her. “Oh, it is too tiresome,” cried Tiny; “I want you to come with me and get some water-lilies out of the pond. Duke’s always so busy; he will never do anything. And I want you to come down the village with me to see the man about those little dachshund puppies. It is too bad of you, Mar, to be ill now. I want you so much.” “I am very sorry, Tiny, but you see I can’t help myself.” “Oh, you could if you would try hard; just put on a resolution and make up your mind, and do, do be better to-morrow!” cried Tiny with vehemence. It is to be feared that this earnestness was simply on Tiny’s own account, to whom Mar was a most serviceable follower--but the boy was grateful for this vigorous demand. “I will if I can,” he said--and then Tiny flew off with her hair waving, and he remained till the next visitor arrived. To tell the truth it was rather pleasant to them all to find him there always ready to hear what they had to say; and when they expressed their impatience with his illness, or ordered him imperiously to get well, they were though unconsciously only half sincere. “It’s nice to have you to run to always, Mar,” Tiny said, who, being the youngest, was the most unabashed in the utterance of fact. And Mar smiled and replied that it was nice to have them all coming to him. “If I am ever dull I know I shall soon hear someone running upstairs.” “But remember,” cried Tiny, “you have promised to be better to-morrow.”