She had waked with the heartache, but her brothers' cheerful laughter had turned her thoughts, and as she dressed, though she considered soberly her responsibility as head of the house, yet it was trustfully too, and the remembrance of the great joy which John's words yesterday had brought her, made her so glad, that she felt ashamed of being dull or mopish because her parents were gone.

So she went downstairs, looking as bright as if no weight of care overshadowed her.

"This is our first day alone," she remarked as they sat at breakfast, "for I do not count yesterday anything, because we went out to dinner."

"I like going to grandmama's," said Hugh, "for she always makes us jolly comfortable."

"That's Hugh's idea of bliss," said Alice mischievously, "nothing to do-and plenty to eat."

"Oh, Alice!" exclaimed Agnes, shocked.

Hugh was not disconcerted, as it happened, but answered:

"Well, what if it is? We're all in the same boat it strikes me. One likes one sort of ease, and another sort; but there isn't much to choose between us."

"Thank you," laughed Alice, who was a little ashamed of her home truth; "but my idea of comfort isn't like yours, Hugh."

"What is yours, Alice?" asked John.

"A warm fire and an interesting book," said Alice promptly.

"Like yesterday," said Hugh, whose memory was often inconvenient.

"Like yesterday," assented Alice soberly, remembering something about that which Hugh knew nothing of.

"I hope you will all be ready in time for church," said John, "for I mean to start whether you are or not. Agnes will be sure to be ready."

Agnes acknowledged the compliment with a smile, but candour forced her to add, "I'm afraid I'm not always ready."

Then they rose from the table, and Agnes stood hesitating for a moment, while the colour mounted into her face.

"John," she whispered, "could you take prayers, do you think?"

John shook his head.

"I thought, perhaps, since yesterday--"

"Oh, Agnes," he returned, "you'll do it twice as well; and the servants, and all-you will not mind. You were going to, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was; and if you would rather I did--"

"Much rather-of course I would. You need not be nervous."

The whispered conversation was unheeded by the others, who had gathered round the fire looking at their mother's bullfinch taking his morning bath on the mantelshelf.

"I hope you won't forget his royal highness," said Hugh to Alice.

"I do not suppose I shall."

"If you do I'll remind you," said Minnie.

"When it is starved to death," answered Hugh.

Minnie looked distressed, and Alice rather defiant. "I mean to attend to him every morning before I taste my own breakfast."

"Oh, I am sure we shall think of him," said Agnes, joining the circle, while her hand pulled the bell for the servants, "we are so used to giving him his bath that his food will be sure to be remembered."

And then they sat down for their first prayers without their parents; and Agnes read with a voice that trembled nervously at first, but as she proceeded she took courage. Their text flashed across her, and she felt that what He wished her to do now was just this, and the thought made her wonderfully happy.

When they sat at dinner-Agnes taking the top of the table and John the bottom-Hugh exclaimed:

"How awfully funny it is without father and mother!"

Minnie looked up quickly, and then looked down, and her knife and fork fell from her fingers.

John turned towards her kindly. "Why, Minnie," he said, "think how much good the change may do them; and if it were you, you would want to see your own mother, wouldn't you, after twenty years?"

This roused Minnie's sympathy. She had never thought such a thing possible before as being separated from her mother for so long; so she swallowed down her tears and began her dinner, which, in spite of her woe-begone feelings, tasted very nice.

"What shall you do with yourself after dinner. John?" asked Hugh.

"I shall look out some texts I have to do, and enter them into my book."

"What book?"

John hesitated. "One I began some little time ago."

"What for?"

"To enter special subjects in that I am interested about."

"What sort of subjects?" asked Alice.

"Scripture subjects; or any others that seem to me to belong to that sort of thing."

Hugh gave a little shrug of his shoulders.

"What time are you going to read to us, Agnes?" asked Minnie.

"A little before four, I think. Hugh and Alice, you have your scripture questions to do for father, haven't you?"

"Yes," they answered.

"Then, John, can you come in the drawing-room to do your writing? Minnie and I shall not disturb you."

He got up and followed her upstairs, smiling as he went.

Turning round on the first landing she saw the smile, and enquired:

"Well?"

"You're a good general," he said.

"Why?"

"Take care to separate your different regiments in case--"

"John!"

"Now, don't you?"

"Not exactly--"

"I know you!"

"Well, come along; you cannot say that my generalship has not made you comfortable, anyhow."

"I don't wish to. What a glorious fire, Agnes; and what a nice arm-chair; and what a jolly little table; and what a nice inkstand; and--"

"There, John, leave off, or our afternoon will be gone; and those children will be up before we have had a moment's quiet."

She seated herself on the sofa, at one side of the fire, Minnie curling herself up by her with her book, and Agnes opening her Bible and bending over it.

Silence reigned for an hour; while John's pen scratched, and the leaves of his concordance turned over; and Agnes's eyes were fixed on one page, from which she hardly raised them, except to give Minnie an occasional caress, or to whisper something to her about her book.

At last there was a stir downstairs. Chairs were pushed back; careful Alice put on some coal, that the fire might not be out when they returned to it; and then there was a rush, and the two came tearing up the stairs.

"How jolly comfortable you look!" exclaimed Hugh.

"We are," said John, preparing to close his book.

"Any room on the sofa for a fellow?" asked Hugh.

"Oh, yes! plenty."

"Sit next me," said Minnie.

"All right. I say, Agnes, how strange it will seem to have Christmas Day without them!"

"Yes; but we can make it happy if we try," said Agnes.

"How?"

"By being happy."

"That's all very well," said Hugh; "but then, you know, Agnes, being made happy depends on outward things."

"Of course it does; and on inward things too. If we have got a well of happiness inside us, it will make everything round us seem bright and beautiful."

"What do you call a 'well of happiness'?"

"I know what Agnes means," said Minnie.

"I was thinking then of the day father came home from America-last time; and we had received the telegram that he had landed at Liverpool. How we all went about singing and happy; how we never thought of quarrelling, but hastened to get everything ready for him."

"I remember that day," said Alice; "it was one of the nicest I ever spent."

"So that is what I mean by a 'well of happiness;' something which gives us joy, independently of anything else."

"And what's your Christmas 'well of joy' for this year, Agnes?" asked John with a smile.

Agnes gave an answering smile. "Oh, John, it is that we are His; that, through the coming of the dear Saviour, we have been given all other blessings-happiness and peace here, everlasting joy hereafter."

"And you think that ought to make up for all other deficiencies?" asked Hugh.

"If we have got it," said Alice thoughtfully; "but sometimes I wonder--" she looked down, and tears glittered in her eyes.

Agnes heard the quiver in the tone, and put her arm lovingly round her sister. "Is it so difficult to know?"

Alice shook her head.

"He gives the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him."

The little party were silent; Alice's unusual feeling startled them. The Sunday afternoon was drawing in, and the light fading.

Presently Agnes said, "I have thought of a little allegory; would you like to hear it? It might help us to understand Alice's difficulty."

The question did not need repeating, and she began:

* * *