‘Lame?’

‘No, I took her to the smith.’

’Give me Alfred’s ointment, please, before you put her up.  He is in such a way about it, and we can’t put him to bed—­’

‘Haven’t got it.’

‘Not got it!  O Harold!’

’I should like to know how to be minding such things when pony loses a shoe, and such weather!  I declare I’m as wet—!’ said Harold angrily, as he saw his sister clasp her hands in distress, and the tears come in her eyes.

‘Is Harold come safe?’ called Mrs. King from above.

‘Is the ointment come?’ cried Alfred, in a piteous pain-worn voice.

Harold stamped his foot, and bolted to the stable to put the pony away.

‘It’s not come,’ said Ellen, coming up-stairs, very sadly.

‘He has forgot it.’

‘Forgot it!’ cried Alfred, raising himself passionately.  ’He always does forget everything!  He don’t care for me one farthing!  I believe he wants me dead!’

‘This is very bad of him!  I didn’t think he’d have done it,’ said Mrs. King sorrowfully.

‘He’s been loitering after some mischief,’ exclaimed Alfred.  ’Taking his pleasure—­and I must stay all this time in pain!  Serve him right to send him back to Elbury.’

Mrs. King had a great mind to have done so; but when she looked at the torrents of rain that streamed against the window, and thought how wet Harold must be already, and of the fatal illnesses that had been begun by being exposed to such weather, she was afraid to venture a boy with such a family constitution, and turning back to Alfred, she said, ’I am very sorry, Alfred, but it can’t be helped; I can’t send Harold out in the rain again, or we shall have him ill too.’

Poor Alfred! it was no trifle to have suffered all day, and to be told the pain must go on all night.  His patience and all his better thoughts were quite worn away, and he burst into tears of anger and cried out that it was very hard—­his mother cared for Harold more than for him, and nobody minded it, if he lay in such pain all night.

‘You know better than that, dear,’ said his poor mother, sadly grieved, but bearing it meekly.  ’Harold shall go as soon as can be to-morrow.’

‘And what good will that be to-night?’ grumbled Alfred.  ’But you always did put Harold before me.  However, I shall soon be dead and out of your way, that’s all!’

Mrs. King would not make any answer to this speech, knowing it only made him worse.  She went down to see about Harold, an additional offence to Alfred, who muttered something about ’Mother and her darling.’

‘How can you, Alfred, speak so to Mother?’ cried Ellen.

‘I’m sure every one is cross enough to me,’ returned Alfred.

‘Not Mother,’ said Ellen.  ‘She couldn’t help it.’

’She won’t send Harold out again, though; I’m sure I’d have gone for him.’

‘You don’t know what the rain was,’ said Ellen.