“Our dear grandpa, mamma?” they all asked, lips and voices tremulous with grief.

“No, darlings, not my own dear father,” the mother answered, with a heart full of gratitude that it was not he, “but our poor old grandfather who lives at Roselands.”

“My dear little wife, you are too much overcome to talk any more just now,” Mr. Travilla said, wheeling an easy-chair to the fire, seating her in it, and removing her hat and cloak, with all the tender gallantry of the days when he wooed and won his bride; “let me tell it.”  He took a seat near her side, lifted “bit Herbie” to his knee, and with the others gathered close about him, briefly told how the accident had happened, and that he and their mother had met a messenger coming to acquaint them with the disaster, and summon them to Roselands; then gave the children some idea of the present situation of their injured relations.

When he had finished, and his young hearers had expressed their sorrow and sympathy for the sufferers, a moment of silence ensued, broken by little Elsie.

“Mamma, who will take care of them?”

“God,” said Herbert, “won’t he, papa?”

“But I mean who will nurse them while they are sick,” said Elsie.

“My father will take care of grandpa,” Mrs. Travilla answered, “Uncle Horace and papa helping when needed.”

“And Aunt Enna, mamma?”

“Well, daughter, who do you think should nurse her?  Aunt Louise is away, Aunt Lora sick herself, grandma at Ashlands with Aunt Sophie and her sick children.”

“Oh, mamma, it won’t have to be you, will it?” the child asked almost imploringly.

“Oh, mamma, no; how could we do without you?” chimed in the others, Herbert adding tearfully, “Mamma stay wis us; we tan’t do wisout you.”

They left their father to cluster about and cling to her, with caresses and entreaties.

“My darlings,” she said, returning their endearments, “can you not feel willing to spare your mother for a little while to poor, suffering Aunt Enna?”

“Mamma, they have plenty of servants”

“Yes, Vi, but she is so very ill that we cannot hope she will get well without more careful, tender nursing than any servant would give her.”

“Mamma, it will be very hard to do without you.”

“And very hard for me to stay away from my dear children; but what does the Bible say?  Seek your own pleasure and profit, and let others take care of themselves?”

“Oh, mamma, no!  ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.’”

“‘Do good to them that hate you,’” quoted Eddie in an undertone.

“But we were not speaking of enemies, my son,” his mother said in surprise.

“I think Aunt Enna is your enemy, mamma; I think she hates you,” he said, with flashing eyes, “for I’ve many a time heard her say very hateful things to you.  Mamma, don’t look so sorry at me; how can I help being angry at people that say unkind things to you?”