The Girls Own Paper, Vol. VIII, No. 355, October 16, 1886 | Page 8

"I am very sorry, papa. I really meant to be down in time, but I suppose
I must have gone to sleep again after I was called." And being really
vexed with herself for having so soon broken her good resolutions,
formed for the hundredth time the day before, Ella Hastings accepted
the cold bacon meekly, and even turned a deaf ear to the withering
sarcasms of her two schoolboy brothers, who were leisurely strapping
together their books, and delaying their departure till the last moment.
"There is the postman coming up the garden; run and get the letters,
Hughie."
A solemn-looking boy of six years old climbed down from his chair, in
obedience to his father's request, and soon came back with a handful of
letters, and settled himself patiently by his father's side to wait for the
empty envelopes, which formed his share of the morning's
correspondence.
An exclamation of surprise from Mr. Hastings caused his wife to look
up inquiringly from the letter she had just opened, and he handed her
silently a telegram which had been forwarded, with other papers, from
his office, where it had evidently been delivered late the previous
evening. Kate, the eldest daughter, leaning over her mother's shoulder,
read aloud the short notice:--
"Mrs. Wilson dangerously ill; letter follows."

Mrs. Wilson was Mr. Hastings' only remaining sister. His mother had
died when he was almost an infant, and this "sister Mary" had slipped
into her place as mother, teacher--everything, to her little brothers and
sisters; never leaving them, till the father having died also, and her
young charges being all old enough to settle in life for themselves, she
had rewarded the faithful waiting of her old lover, and they had settled
down together in a quiet village a few miles from the noisy town where
his business lay. Her happy married life lasted but a short time,
however, and for the many years since her husband's death she had
preferred to live entirely alone with her two maids and a strange
medley of pet animals--finding employment and interest for her
declining years in her books and her garden.
From being so long alone she had grown eccentric in her ways, and
very odd and decided in her views; but she kept a warm corner in her
heart for her favourite brother and his children, who heartily returned
their aunt's affection, though they stood a good deal in awe of her keen
penetrating gaze and sarcastic criticisms.
She had always prided herself on her good constitution, and despised
doctors and dentists as people who pandered to the fads and fancies of a
degenerate generation--a generation who, according to her creed,
weakened their backs and ruined their health by lounging on sofas and
easy chairs, while, for her part, though seventy years of age, she was
thankful to say a straight-backed chair was good enough for her. It may
be imagined that for this self-reliant, vigorous Aunt Mary to be taken
seriously ill, so ill as to have to summon help, was a great shock, and
Mr. Hastings decided at once that he must go to see his sister, and that
one of his daughters should accompany him; but the telegram was so
short, and gave so little information, that nothing further could be
arranged till the noonday post arrived, which always brought the letters
from Hapsleigh.
The morning seemed endless, but noon came at last, and with it the
promised letter, which was eagerly opened and read. It was from Mrs.
Mobberly, a near neighbour of Mrs. Wilson's. She described the sudden
illness, and all that had been done for the sufferer. "The doctor says that

for a day or two he cannot tell what the result may be, though we may
hope for the best. He has sent in a thoroughly trustworthy trained nurse,
but he agrees with me that it would be a good thing if one of your
daughters could come to take charge of the household, for even if all
goes as well as possible it will be a long and tedious recovery, and the
invalid must be kept perfectly quiet and free from all worry."
"Well, girls," said Mr. Hastings, as he finished reading the letter, "you
must decide between yourselves which of you will go. As there seems
no immediate danger, we need not leave till to-morrow morning, so
you will have a little time for preparation; but however great a sacrifice
it is for you to go, and for us to part with you, there is no question
about it. Aunt Mary must not be left alone till she is quite herself again,
so I will telegraph to Mrs. Mobberly that one of you will go with me by
the first train to-morrow."
There was no room