“Oh dear,” said Bessie, speaking for the first time, “I know it will be. Little girls in story-books always do have their mammas—die!” “Story-books are all nonsense, so it won’t happen,” said Sam; and really it seemed as if the habit of contradicting Bessie had suggested to him the greatest consolation that had yet occurred. Just then Henry and the younger ones came in, and learnt the tidings. Henry wept as bitterly as his elder sister, and John and Annie both did the same; but David did not speak one word, as if he hardly took in what was the matter, and, going to the window, took up his lesson-books as usual. “It is nine o’clock, Hal,” said Sam presently. “Oh, we can’t go to Mr. Carey to-day,” said Hal. “Yes, we shall,” returned Sam. “Oh don’t,” cried Susan. “Suppose a telegraph should come!” “Well, then you can send for me,” said Sam. “Come, Hal.” “How can you, Sam?” said Henry crossly; “I know Mr. Carey will give us leave when he knows.” “I don’t want leave,” said Sam; “I don’t want to kick up a row, as you’ll do if you stay at home.” “Well then, if the message comes, I shall take Susie to London instead of you. I’m sure they want me most!” “No, go down to Mr. Carey’s with your brother, if you please, Hal,” said Miss Fosbrook decidedly. “If he should tell you not to stay, I can’t help it; but you will none of you do any good by hanging about without doing your daily duties.” Hal saw he had no chance, and marched off, muttering about its being very hard. Sam picked up his books, and turned to go, with a grave steady look that was quite manly in its sadness, only stopping to say, “Now, Jackie, you be good!—Please Miss Fosbrook, let him run down after me if the message comes, and I’ll be back before the horse is out.” Miss Fosbrook promised, and could not help shaking hands with the brave boy, if only to show that she felt with him. “Then must we all do our lessons?” asked Annie disconsolately, when he was gone. “Yes, my dear; I think we shall all be the better for not neglecting what we ought to do. But there is one thing that we can do for your dear Mamma; you know what I mean. Suppose you each went away alone for five minutes, and were to come back when I ring the little bell?” The first to come back was Annie, with the question in a low whisper, “Miss Fosbrook, will God make Mamma better if we are very good?” Miss Fosbrook kissed her, saying, “My dear little girl, I cannot tell. All I can certainly tell you is, that He hears the prayers of good children, and if it be better for her and for you He will give her back to you.” Annie did not quite understand, but she entered into what Miss Fosbrook said enough to wish to be good; so she took up her book, and began to learn with all her might.