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 voice,—"I promised I would never ask you any questions, and I never have, have I? But— the trouble—it won't last always?"

"No," said Mother, "the worst will be over when Father comes home to us."

"I wish I could comfort you," said Bobbie.

"Oh, my dear, do you suppose you don't? What should I do without you—you and the others? Do you think I haven't noticed how good you've all been, not quarrelling nearly as much as you used to—and all the little kind things you do for me—the flowers, and cleaning my shoes, and tearing up to make my bed before I get home to do it myself?"

Bobbie had sometimes wondered whether Mother noticed these things.

"That's nothing," she said, "to what—"

"I must get on with my work," said Mother, giving Bobbie one last squeeze. "Don't say anything to the others!"

That evening in the hour before bed-time instead of reading to the children Mother told them stories of the games she and Father used to have when they were children and lived near each other in the country—tales of the adventures of Father with Mother's brothers when they were all boys to-