Up the Hill and Over

ally the case when this happened, Jane, designated by mournful Mark as "the Pindling One," was sitting on the gatepost gazing disconsolately down the road. T

aying with the oth

o play, Esther.

But Fred has promi

a new puppy. I

ow. In the Happy Hunting Grounds, he will be able to fris

ill again," she announced gloomily. "I mustn't play band or nail the slats on the rabbits' hutch. Aunt Amy

e elder sister came toge

at is being

n't c

now and get the apple and ask

w, opening through French windows directly into the living room which, like itself, was long and low, and charming. There is a charm in rooms which can be felt but not descr

The light there was soft and green. The comfortable chairs invited rest; the polished rosewood table, the bright piano shining in the brightest

reflected in it, with her father's laughing eyes behind. In every way it was associated with the beginnings of things. The magic of all musi

cool greenness. The room was the same room but it was as if the expression on a well-known face h

f the promised apple, came through the open window, "are

urse,

t you would call a

s a go

y chase chi

oba

d c

ainly

ppens to bad cat

picture of everlastingly pu

uppose it would

t chase anything

wouldn't talk with

r that Esther was not in the mood for argument. The child's quick observation had not failed to n

in before; that's why I'm not really in yet. It catches you

ane. It's loneliness

r power of expression. She slid off the veranda step and wandered back into the garde

f green, but true love offerings for all that. Wordless gifts most of them, prim little bunches, hot from tight clasping in chubby hands, shyly and swiftly deposited on "Teacher's desk" when the back of that divinity was turned. The blue bowl took kindly to them all, and as the girl's cle

s which might once have been beautiful. She was dressed entirely in lavender, a fondness for this colour being one of the many

n. Have you put a mat under the bowl?

of furniture was the pride of Aunt Amy's life. "It's all right, Auntie. It's not really

ust think a lot

they would bring flower

mot

. I went up with her dinner but she d

she ought to do somethi

She'll be all right to-

t, and you know-she is so different. Sh

" va

t just be imagination. She

won

one who would talk to her! She won't listen to me because she is older and married an

re isn't any doctor here tha

ittle smile which crinkled up the corner of her mouth. The faint

say he is awfully nice. Mrs. Sykes' Ann was telling me all about him. He is going to bo

is pepper-grass will be very nice for tea. Did y

d to Aunt Amy's inconsequences which made impossible the discussion of any subjects save t

he explained. "Don't you think we might

said, in the voice of a frightened child. Then with a child's obvious effort to control rising tears, "Of course, if you

er hair with a worried gesture. A pang of mingled irritati

at fancy. You know it is only a fancy. Round table

I know

the timid old face, the girl's mood softened. "No, we shan't," she declared gaily. "We'll h

ting the table herself. "For you know, Esther, the sprigged tea-set is so hurt if any one but me arranges it. Yes, of course, it is only a fancy

the east. All these and numberless other strange facts were part of Aunt Amy's twilight world. To her they were immensely important, but to the family the really important thing seemed that, with trifling exceptions, the new inmate of the household was gentle and kind; her housekeeping a miracle and her cooking a dream. In the years she had lived with them there had been but one serious thrill of anxiety, and that came when Dr. Coombe had discovered her endeavouring to infect Jane with her delusions

xt room. Her devotion to him had been caused by his success in partially relieving her of the most distressing burden of her disordered brain-the delusion of persecution. Aunt Amy knew that somewhere there existed a mysterious power known vaguely as "They" who sought unceasingly to injure her. Of course it was only once in a while that "They" got a chance, for Aunt A

ncy had been spoken of and Esther had considered it gone altogether. Yet here it was, cropping out aga

whom could she confide? Girl friends she had in plenty but not one whose judgment she could trust before her own. Had the minister been an older man or a man of different calibre she might have gone to him, but the idea of appealing to Mr. Macnair was dist

firmly upon her rebellious shoulders. For one thing there was always the inner knowledge that Mary Coombe was weak and that she, Esther, was strong. She had always known this. Even when her father had brought home his pretty bride and Esther, a shy, silent child of eleven, had welcomed her, she had known that the newcomer was the weaker spirit. The bride had known it too. She had never atte

peak, but she had read the message of his eyes, the appeal to the strength in her to he

*

er she had had no word. Blank silence had met her when she had taken the tea tray upstairs and called softly through the closed door. Mrs. Coombe w

hich no one would have dreamed her light nature capable. Still, willing or unwilling, something must be done. Aunt Amy, too, was becoming more of an anxiety. Once or twice lately she had spoken of "Them," a sign of mental distress which Dr. Coombe had always treated with the utmost seriousness. Perhaps if a doctor were called in for Aunt Amy, Mrs. Coombe would lose her foolish dread of doctors and allow him to prescribe for her also. And if the new doctor were half as clever as Mrs. Sykes said he was-Esther'

nd it isn't as if he were quite a strang