"One of the horses may have lost a shoe," Elsie said, trying to be very cheerful, and putting her arm round Violet as she spoke. "I remember that happened once a good while ago. But if mamma were here, don't you know what she would say, little sister?"
"Yes; 'don't fret; don't meet trouble half way, but trust in God, our Father, who loves us so dearly, that he will never let any real harm come to us.'"
"I think our mamma is very wise," remarked Eddie; "so very much wiser than Aunt Lucy, who gets frightened at every little thing."
"Oh, Eddie dear, would mamma or papa like that?" said Elsie softly.
But they've both told us that unkind remarks should not be made even if true: unless it is quite necessary."
"Oh, why don't papa and mamma come?" "Oh, I wis dey would! I so tired watchin' for 'em!" burst out Harold and Herbert, nearly ready to cry.
"Look! look!" cried the others in chorus, "they are coming, the carriage is just turning in at the gate!"
But it was growing so dark now, and the tiny flakes were coming down so thick and fast, that none of them were quite sure the carriage was their own, until it drew up before the door, and two dear familiar forms alighted and came up the veranda steps.
They were greeted with as joyous a welcome as if they had been absent for weeks or months, and returned the sweet caresses as lovingly as they were bestowed, smiling tenderly upon each darling of their hearts.
But almost instantly little Elsie perceived something unusual in the sweet, fair face she loved so dearly, and was wont to study with such fond, tender scrutiny.
"Mamma, dear mamma, what is wrong?" she asked.
"A sad accident, daughter," Elsie answered, her voice faltering with emotion, "poor grandpa and Aunt Enna have been badly hurt."
"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.
