"And his wife in such a horrible whining dawdle!" said Ethel--"there will be no good to be done if it depends on her." Richard made no answer, and Ethel presently felt remorseful for her harsh speech about a poor ignorant woman, overwhelmed with poverty, children, and weak health.
"I have been thinking a great deal about what you said last time we took this walk," said Richard, after a considerable interval.
"Oh, have you!" cried Ethel eagerly; and the black peaty pond she was looking at seemed to sparkle with sunlight.
"Do you really mean it ?" said Richard deliberately.
"Yes, to be sure;" she said, with some indignation.
"Because I think I see a way to make a beginning, but you must make up your mind to a great deal of trouble, and dirty walks, and you must really learn not to draggle your frock." "Well, well; but tell me." "This is what I was thinking.

I don't think I can go back to Oxford after Christmas.

It is not fit to leave you while papa is so disabled." "Oh no, he could not get on at all.

I heard him tell Mr.Wilmot the other day that you were his right hand." Ethel was glad she had repeated this, for there was a deepening colour and smiling glow of pleasure on her brother's face, such as she had seldom seen on his delicate, but somewhat impassive features.
"He is very kind!" he said warmly.

"No, I am sure I cannot be spared till he is better able to use his arm, and I don't see any chance of that just yet.