Ethelyn's Mistake

"Is this Chicopee? Am I home? Oh, Aunt Barbara, I am so glad! you can't

guess how glad, or know how tired and sorry your poor Ethie has been,"

came brokenly from the pale lips, as Ethelyn moved nearer to Aunt

Barbara and laid her head upon the motherly bosom, where it had so often

lain in the dear old Chicopee days.

She did not notice Richard, or seem to know that she was elsewhere than

in Chicopee, back in the old home, and Richard's pulse throbbed quickly

as he saw the flush come over Ethie's face, and the look of pain creep

into her eyes, when a voice broke the illusion and told her she was

still in Olney, with him and the mother-in-law leaning over the bed-rail

saying, "Speak to her, Richard."

"Ethie, don't you know me, too?--I came with Aunt Barbara."

That was what he said, as he bent over her, seeking to take in his own

one of the feverish little hands locked so fast in those of Aunt

Barbara. She did know then, and remember, and her lip quivered in a

grieved, disappointed way as she said, "Yes, Richard, I know now. I am

not at home, I'm here;" and the intonation of the voice as it uttered

the word "here," spoke volumes, and told Aunt Barbara just how homesick

and weary and wretched her darling had been here. She must not talk

much, the physician said, and so with one hand in Richard's and one in

Aunt Barbara's she fell away to sleep again, while the family stole out

to their usual avocations, Mrs. Markham and Eunice to their baking,

James and John to their work upon the farm, and Andy to his Bethel in

the wood-house chamber, where he repeated: "Blessed be the Lord God of

Israel who has visited and redeemed his people," and added at the

conclusion the Gloria Patri, which he thought suitable for the occasion.