Mildred's New Daughter. Finley Martha

and she had to tear herself away leaving the whole four weeping bitterly.

      Their uncles were kind, but because of business cares seldom seen; the aunts took little notice of the young strangers, each being absorbed in her usual round of occupation, while the treatment of the cousins, older and younger, varied with their varying moods – sometimes they were kind, disposed to pet and humor their forlorn little relatives, and again – without any apparent reason for a change – treated them with coldness and indifference.

      That was hard to bear, and caused many a fit of home-sickness and bitter weeping for the loss of the dear father and mother whom they would never see more upon earth.

      Ethel, who was, in spite of her tender years, a very womanly little girl, earnestly strove to act a mother’s part to her younger sisters and little brother – soothing and comforting them in their griefs and seldom giving vent to her own except in the darkness and silence of night when none but God, her Heavenly Father, could see and know it. Her pillow was often wet with tears as she sobbed herself to sleep while pouring all her sorrows into His sympathizing ear, as both her mother and Mrs. McDougal had taught her to do, repeating to her again and again that command and precious promise, “Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee and thou shalt glorify Me.”

      “Oh, if I could only find our dear grandpa and grandma,” she sometimes said to herself; “they would love us as dear mamma and papa did, and take us home to live with them, and we would be, oh, so happy!”

      Then she would comfort herself with the hope that perhaps some day they would be found, and she and her brother and sisters be taken to the sweet and lovely home she could remember as a half forgotten dream, where no one would think them in the way; but they would be loved and petted and made much of, instead of being barely tolerated as those of whose presence their entertainers would gladly be relieved.

      But scarcely a week had elapsed after the departure of their beloved caretaker, Mrs. McDougal, when the little orphans were subjected to yet another trial in the removal of Blanche and Harry to the house of their uncle George and the custody of his cold-mannered, unsympathetic wife.

      The enforced separation was a bitter thing to both themselves and the other two. But tears and cries brought only reproof and punishment; especially to Harry, who proved, under the tyrannical rule of his uncle’s wife, a very determined little rebel, bringing upon himself punishments so many and severe that to hear of them, as she did in one way and another, almost broke Ethel’s heart.

      She sorrowed for Blanche too, and for Nannette and herself; for their situation was only slightly better than that of their brother and sister.

      Things grew worse and worse with all four until at length their uncles, wearied out with complaints from their wives and feeling that it was sad to have the children separated, began to talk of trying to find a good home for them elsewhere.

      Then Mrs. George Eldon broached her idea that it would be a help to poor Mr. Coote if he and his wife were paid to take charge of the little orphans, and at the same time a pleasant change for the children, as the whole four could be together.

      She did not add the information that she had already written privately to Coote, telling of her plan and advising him to casually call in upon her husband and his brother, speak of his cramped circumstances and remark that he was thinking of trying to get a few boarding pupils to help himself and wife eke out their small income.

      The uncles hesitated over Mrs. George’s suggestion, but finally consented to let the experiment be tried, provided Coote and his wife might like to try it; or if not they, someone else likely to prove a suitable person could be found.

      It seemed to them quite a providence when a day or two later Coote called at their place of business and made known his desire for just such an opportunity for increasing his meagre means, asking if they could recommend him to someone who had the guardianship of children in need of a good home where they would receive parental care and training.

      The brothers exchanged glances of relief and pleasure.

      “Yes, Mr. Coote,” replied the elder Mr. Eldon, “we ourselves are wanting just such a home and caretaking for the orphan children of a deceased brother; four little ones – the eldest eight, the youngest about three years of age.”

      “Possible?” cried Coote, simulating delighted surprise, laughing in a gleeful way and rubbing his hands together with a look of great satisfaction. “Well, sirs, you may rest assured that if committed to my care and that of my estimable wife they will not long miss their departed parents, and will be trained up in so godly a manner that they will no doubt be reunited to them in a better world.”

      “Not too soon, I hope,” observed Mr. Albert dryly. “I desire them to live to years of maturity, becoming happy, honorable, and useful citizens of this free land which we have adopted as our own.”

      “Oh, certainly, sir,” responded Coote, “and I’m thinking they’ll be more likely to live and thrive in the wholesome air of the country town in which I am located than here in the city.”

      “I hope so indeed,” said the elder Mr. Eldon; “but if we trust them to you and Mrs. Coote it must be with the distinct understanding that they are to be well fed and clothed, and to receive truly parental care and affection.”

      “Oh, certainly, certainly, sir,” again responded Coote; “my wife and I will look upon and treat the poor little orphans quite as if they were our own.”

      “Better, I trust, than some people treat their own,” returned Mr. Eldon. “Well, sir, if my brother approves, we will, I think, give you an opportunity to show yourself a kind and wise guardian to these little ones who, as the offspring of our deceased brother, are very near and dear to us.”

      In reply Mr. Coote gave renewed assurances that he felt a great interest in the little orphans, and that he and his wife would be as father and mother to them, doing for them all that the best of parents could do.

      The uncles then consented to put them in his care for an indefinite period, reserving the right to remove them if at any time they saw reason to be dissatisfied with the treatment they received.

      “I certainly shall give you no occasion for it,” remarked Coote suavely; “as I have said, my wife and I will be as tender and careful of the little darlings as though, they were our own flesh and blood.”

      “How soon will you be ready for them?” asked Mr. George Eldon.

      “At once, sir, at once. And if you please I should greatly prefer to take them with me on my return this afternoon. It would save me another trip to the city, and in my circumstances that expense would count.”

      “And since the change has to be made it would perhaps be as well to make it at once,” remarked Mr. Eldon thoughtfully, adding, “I hope the poor little creatures may be happier with you, Mr. Coote, than they have been with us, if only for the simple reason that the whole four will be together; for I never saw children fonder of each other than they are.”

      “Nor I,” assented his brother; “and Ethel, young as she is, seems very like a mother to Harry and Nannette, poor child! I am really sorry to part with her. I’ll go up with you, Coote, explain matters to her, bid good-by to the whole four, and see them off.”

      Things had gone very wrong that morning with Blanche and Harry, and Ethel was nearly heartbroken over the sore punishment meted out to them by Mrs. George. That made the news her Uncle Albert brought her much less distressing than it would otherwise have been; for how, she asked herself, was it possible things could go worse anywhere than here? And it seemed a blessing indeed that she and all three of the younger ones would be together again.

      She loved Uncle Albert, clung tearfully to him for a moment when he had told her of the new arrangement, then almost cheerfully gathered together the few small possessions of herself, brother, and sisters.

      By direction of the aunts the children’s trunk had been already packed with the most of their clothing, so that it was the work of but a few minutes to get everything in readiness for their hasty departure.

      The little ones were almost dazed by the suddenness of the thing, and scarcely realized