George stayed at Whittington for a week; he followed his father to the grave. Mrs. Staunton clung to him with a sort of feverish tenacity; whenever he came into the room, her eyes followed him. A sort of wistful, contented expression came into them when he sat down beside her. During all the time George was in the house she never broke down. At last, however, the time came when he must leave her.

"I must go back to my work," he said; "but you are coming to London soon, then I'll be with you every evening. You know my father has given you to me to take care of. It will be all right when we are in London together."

"Yes, my boy," she replied, "it will be all right then. I don't complain," she added; "I don't attempt to murmur. I shall go to him, but he cannot return to me; and I have got you, George, and he gave me to you. I am willing to stay with you just as long as you want me."78

It was late that night when George left his mother's room. Effie was standing in the passage—the brother and sister looked at each other. Effie had come home the day after Dr. Staunton's death.

"Come out with me for a bit, Effie," said her brother. They went into the garden, and she linked her hand through his arm.

Dorothy Fraser had now returned to her duties in London; the Stauntons were to go up to town as soon as ever the cottage could be sold. It had belonged to the doctor. George was to live with them when they were in town, and perhaps Effie would be able to follow the great wish of her mind. There was just a possibility that she might be able to be trained as a hospital nurse. She looked up at George now.

"You have been such a comfort to us," she said. "Dorothy told me everything; and I know that if you had not come just at the opportune moment, we should have lost our mother as well as our father. I'll do all in my power to hurry matters, so that we can come to London before the winter."

"Yes," said George. He was a finely built young fellow, with a handsome face. He was not the least like Effie, who was dark and rather small, like her mother. George had the doctor's physique; he had great square shoulders, his eyes were frank and blue like his father's, but his mouth wanted his father's firmness.

"Effie," he said. "I don't know how I am to bring myself to confide in you."

"Confide in me?" she said, with a little start. "We always did tell our secrets to one another, but all this terrible trouble seems to have put childish things away. Have you really a secret, George, to tell me?"

"I don't know how I can tell it to you," he replied;79 his lips quivered—he looked down. Effie clasped his arm affectionately.

"You know I would do anything for you," she said.

"Yes; I know you are the best of girls, and you're awfully pretty, too. I know Fred Lawson will think so when he sees you."

"Who is he?"

"A friend of mine—a right good fellow—he is a medical student at St. Joseph's Hospital. I have often met him, and he has talked to me about his own sisters, and one day I showed him your photograph, and he said what a pretty girl you were. Somehow, Effie, I never thought of you as pretty until Fred said so. I suppose fellows don't think how their sisters look, although they love them very dearly; but when Fred said it, it opened my ey............