“You gave sister a hundred dollars yesterday,” said Jane, almost petulantly.

Not a word of reply did my father make.  I was looking at him, and saw an expression on his countenance that was new to me—­an expression of pain, mingled with fear.  He turned away slowly, and in silence left the house.

“Jane,” said my mother, addressing her from the stairway, on which she had been standing, “how could you speak so to your father?”

“I have just as good right to a hundred dollar shawl as Anna,” replied my sister, in a very undutiful tone.  “And what is more, Im going to have one.”

“What reason did your father give for refusing your request to-day?” asked my mother.

“Couldn’t spare the money!  Had a large payment to make!  Only an excuse!”

“Stop, my child!” was the quick, firm remark, made with unusual feeling.  “Is that the way to speak of so good a father?  Of one who has ever been so kindly indulgent?  Jane!  Jane!  You know not what you are saying!”

My sister looked something abashed at this unexpected rebuke, when my mother took occasion to add, with an earnestness of manner that I could not help remarking as singular,

“Your father is troubled about something.  Business may not be going on to his satisfaction.  Last night I awoke, and found him walking the floor.  To my questions he merely answered that he was wakeful.  His health is not so good as formerly, and his spirits are low.  Don’t, let me pray you, do anything to worry him.  Say no more about this money, Jane; you will get it whenever it can be spared.”

I did not see my father again until tea-time.  Occasionally, business engagements pressed upon him so closely that he did not come home at the usual hour for dining.  He looked pale—­weary—­almost haggard.

“Dear father, are you sick?” said I, laying a hand upon him, and gazing earnestly into his countenance.

“I do not feel very well,” he replied, partly averting his face, as if he did not wish me to read its expression too closely.  “I have had a weary day.”

“You must take more recreation,” said I.  “This excessive devotion to business is destroying your health.  Why will you do it, father?”

He merely sighed as he passed onwards, and ascended to his own room.  At tea-time I observed that his face was unusually sober.  His silence was nothing uncommon, and so that passed without remark from any one.

On the next day Jane received the hundred dollars, which was spent for a shawl like mine.  This brought the sunshine back to her face.  Her moody looks, I saw, disturbed my father.