The Girls of St. Wode's. Meade L. T.

said Mrs. Gilroy. “Be as quick as possible; bustle away, get the house into perfect order, and then you shall come down to hear my good news.”

      The children ran off.

      When the door closed behind them Leslie looked at her mother.

      “Must you go out again to-night, mother?” she asked.

      “No, my darling, not to-night. To-morrow I shall not be home until very late. I have to attend two big functions, and must take my copy afterwards to the Grapho and the Daily Post.”

      Llewellyn fidgeted; he stood up and then sat down again. He looked at his mother as if about to speak, and then restrained himself.

      “What’s the matter, Lew? What are you worrying about?” said his sister.

      “It’s only the thought of mother doing this beastly grind night after night,” he said. “It drives me half-wild sometimes.”

      “My dear boy, I enjoy it,” said the mother; “and you shall take my place all in good time. There is an excitement about the life which exactly suits me. I could never be a drone even if I wished it, Lew – not even to please you, dear old fellow.”

      The mother bent forward as she spoke and gave the boy one of her rare caresses, just a touch on his white forehead. He sat down near her. Another boy would have held out his hand for his mother to clasp, but Llewellyn’s long hands hung between his knees. He was bending over the fire, looking into the blaze. The daydreams which he had so often seen in those flames were receding farther and farther away. His face was pale, and the expression of his gray eyes heavy.

      But Mrs. Gilroy, too much interested in Leslie at present to notice her son’s depression, continued to talk cheerfully. By and by she would see it all and speak of it, but not just now.

      Quite within the appointed time the three girls returned. They took up their work, for never for a moment in this family was idleness allowed, and sat down near the lamp.

      “Now then, we are ready,” said Hester; “but I do wish, before mother begins, that you would show me, Kitty, how you turn this heel. I know I am doing it wrong.”

      “I should think you are, you old goose,” said Kitty. “Well, I can’t show you at present. Just take the needles out and unravel a few rows, then put the needles in again, and I’ll be ready to give you a lesson before bedtime. But, remember, I am going to charge for it. It’s a farthing a lesson, and the money to go to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. Is not that a good idea, mother?” continued Kitty, looking up.

      But Mrs. Gilroy was not listening. She had something important to say, and the mere idle chatter of this happy family passed over her ears unnoticed.

      “Leslie,” she said laying her hand on her eldest girl’s arm, “my news has to do with you; but, as we have no secrets in our family, I will tell it before the rest of the children.”

      Leslie looked eager and excited. Even Llewellyn dropped his despondent air and stood up, big and manly, five feet ten, on the hearthrug.

      His mother glanced at him, noticed, without really noticing it, the marked look of power on his intellectual face, and then turned to her favorite child.

      “I was in my usual place at the office of the Grapho to-day,” she began. “I was busily engaged preparing copy for to-morrow’s issue when a gentleman, an old friend of your father’s, a certain Mr. Parker, came in.”

      “Mr. Parker! A friend of father’s! I never heard of him before,” said Leslie.

      “He has been in Australia for the last twelve years, but has just returned home. He sent in his card and begged to see me. As soon as ever I saw him I remembered that your dear father had constantly spoken of him. Well, he wishes to do something for – for the sake of his old friend.”

      Mrs. Gilroy’s voice faltered.

      “He is quite a gentleman,” she continued, “though a little rough; but a capital good fellow at bottom. He spoke to me most frankly, and finally ended by making me an offer. The offer has to do with you, Leslie.”

      “With me?” said Leslie.

      “Yes, darling. He asked me all about our means. He was not at all prying; he was good and kind and oh! so generous at heart. I hated to tell him, and yet I felt obliged to. He was shocked; he thought your father would have left us better off.”

      “He had no right to ask about our father’s means,” grumbled Llewellyn. “No one could have worked harder than our father did.”

      “No one, truly,” echoed Leslie.

      “And no one ever led a more upright, exemplary, splendid life,” said the widow. Her voice trembled; she paused for a moment.

      Kitty and Mabel laid down their needlework.

      “But, all the same,” continued the mother, “you must not blame Mr. Parker. He and your father had not met for many years, and in Australia they lead a different life. When a man is lucky there he is very lucky; and Mr. Parker has been one of the lucky ones. He took shares in some gold-mines, and explained to me that he is now a man of great wealth.”

      “He must have interrupted your work a good bit,” began Llewellyn, then he checked himself. His mother glanced at him, took no notice of his speech, and continued with her story.

      “The result of our interview is this,” she said, looking round at her children and laying her hand on Leslie’s arm. “Leslie is to have a chance, a right good chance in life.”

      “Mother, what do you mean?” said Leslie. She opened her pretty eyes wide, and the color rushed into her face.

      “Mr. Parker is a man of peculiar views,” said the mother. “He does not want to help boys, he says; they must stand or fall on their own merits. But for girls he has a peculiar feeling, an unbounded pity. The fact is, poor fellow, he had a wife of his own, and a daughter, and if the daughter were alive she would be your age, Leslie. I have not the slightest doubt that accounts for his prejudice in favor of girls. Now, my darling, he has offered to pay all your expenses either at Newnham or at that other great college, St. Wode’s, Wingfield. He wants you to give up your present employment immediately, and to go to either of these places at the beginning of term. You are to have every advantage that is possible. When you have completed your university education he will take further steps to insure your commanding an excellent living. The money is to be paid direct to me as required, and he has now given me a check for fifty pounds to buy the necessary outfit which you will require for your new life. I have taken the check and have accepted the offer. That is my news. It is a great chance for you, Leslie; it is a great chance. You go away from us, I know, my darling, and I shall miss you terribly; but it is a great chance.”

      “And you have really accepted it, mother?”

      “I have. I could not allow you to throw it away. Mr. Parker is such an old friend of your father’s that I am willing to put myself under this supreme obligation. He has even hinted that by and by he will do great things for Kitty and for Mabel.”

      “And what about poor Hester?” said that individual, dropping her stocking and looking with piteous eyes at her mother.

      “You are to be my home-bird, darling.” Then Hester rose and knelt by her mother, and put her strong young arms round her waist and kissed her.

      “Yes; I for one would never leave you, mammy; and I don’t care a pin about being learned. I want just to be useful, although I am afraid I am a bit of a failure all round. There always is a failure in every family, isn’t there, mother; so it’s just as well that I should be the one.”

      “We mean to have no failures in this family,” said Mrs. Gilroy. “Now, then, you young ones, it is time for bed; off you go at once. I have much to say to Leslie and to Llewellyn by themselves.”

      CHAPTER IX – ONE TAKEN, THE OTHER LEFT

      When the younger girls had rather unwillingly left the room, Leslie took a seat near her mother. Llewellyn, going to a bookcase at the further end of