but he ran away to do what she bade him, and was soon hard at work, although, as might have been expected, his progress was not very great. Alice praised him nevertheless, and told him that he would make a good gardener by-and-by.

"Poor Charley!" exclaimed I, "I wonder what he will take to. But it matters little-like the rest of us, he must do what he can."

"When I grow up to be a man," said the child, as he ceased digging, and stood leaning with a grave face upon his little spade, "when I grow up to be a man, I mean to be a doctor; and then I will try and find out something to cure your headache, John."

"Thank you," I replied, laughing. "And, meanwhile, a knowledge of herbs and flowers may be of service to you." Charley laughed too, but without understanding what I meant ; and went on digging.

When my father came home he did not appear to be at all surprised to hear of the death of Uncle Jabez. That night he and my mother had a long and earnest conversation together, which we took care not to interrupt. When they sent for us, at length, I saw that my mother had been crying.

"Will they expect me at the office to-morrow?" said I to my father, before we retired to

rest.

'No, not to-morrow. I have asked for a few days' holiday for you, and you may as well have the benefit of it, unless you particularly wish to go," added he, with a smile.

No, indeed; but I shall be quite ready to do so whenever you think right, father."

"Very well, my boy. I will let you know." I saw a quick glance exchanged between him and my mother, and but for the expression of her countenance, should have half feared that he had been telling her of my recent indisposition. But in that case she would never have smiled so brightly as she wished me good night.

CHAPTER XX.

GOD DOES PROVIDE.

THE next morning my mother accompanied my father to town, and was absent the greater part of the day. She brought home several parcels with her, and more were afterwards sent-melancholy looking parcels-by the contents of which we soon perceived that she intended us to wear mourning for Uncle Jabez. A woman who lived near came in to assist my mother in making her own and Alice's things. The black work made her eyes ache, she said; but I think that it was the tears which she shed. I wondered that my mother should grieve so much; and yet I knew that, she loved the strange old man both for his own and her mother's sake.

There were several things I wanted to ask her, which struck me about this time as rather singular, but the presence of the woman at work all day in the house restrained me. I wondered that we should wear deeper mourning for Uncle

Jabez than we had done for our own little sister, when she died so many years ago. My mother had said then that she could not afford

to buy more. I was afraid this would cost a great deal more.

The woman always went home before my father returned, and then he and my mother talked together all the evening, or went as far as the old house to give directions about the funeral of Uncle Jabez. Dr. H called several times to see my mother; and yet she did not appear to be ill, and I noticed that he never sent her any medicine.

William was very busy all that week, and only came in once for a few moments. He looked pale and tired, but, as usual, made no complaint. I remember his speaking kindly of Uncle Jabez, as he always did of every one; and wishing that he could have seen him before he died.

I met William, one evening, a few days after the death of Uncle Jabez, going in the direction of the old house; and having nothing to do I went with him. How desolate it looked! The shutters were closed, of course, and the broken gate swung to and fro with a harsh, grating