Nell of Shorne Mills

He mopped his eyes with his handkerchief, as if overcome by emotion, and

the exasperated Nell looked at him as if she meant another fight; but

she resisted the temptation, and, with a shrug of her shoulders, pushed

the book and money toward the patient and unmoved Molly.

"There you are, Molly, all but the shilling. Tell him to add that to the

next account."

"Yes, miss. And the missis' chocklut; it's just the time?"

Nell glanced at the clock.

"So it is! There'll be a row. It's all your fault, Dick. Why don't you

go for a sail, or shrimping, or something? A boy's always a nuisance in

the house. I'll come at once, Molly. There!" she exclaimed, as a woman's

thin voice was heard calling in a languid and injured tone: "Molly!"

"''Twas the voice of the sluggard----'" Dick began to quote; but Nell,

with a hissed "Hush! she'll hear you!" ran out, struggling with her

laughter. Five minutes later, she went up the stairs with a salver on

which were a dainty chocolate service and a plate of thin bread and

butter, and entering the best bedroom of the cottage, carried the salver

to a faded-looking woman who, in a short dressing jacket of dingy pink,

sat up in the bed.

She was Mrs. Lorton, the stepmother of the boy and girl. She had been

pretty once, and had not forgotten the fact--it is on the cards that she

thought herself pretty still, though the weak face was thin and hollow,

the once bright eyes dim and querulous, the lips drawn into a

dissatisfied curve.

"Here is your chocolate, mamma," said the girl. She hated the word

"mamma"; but from the first moment of her introduction to Mrs. Lorton,

she had declined to call her by the sacred name of "mother." "I'm afraid

I'm late."

"It is ten minutes past the time," said Mrs. Lorton; "but I do not

complain. I never complain, Eleanor. A Wolfer should at least know how

to suffer in silence. I hope it is hot--really hot; yesterday it was

cold--quite cold, and it caused me that acute indigestion which, I

trust, Eleanor, it will never be your lot to experience."

"I'm sorry, mamma; but yesterday morning you were asleep when I brought

it in, and I did not like to wake you."

"Not asleep, Eleanor," said Mrs. Lorton, with an air of long-suffering

patience--"no, alas! not asleep. My eyes were closed, I have no doubt;

but I was merely thinking. I heard you come in----Surely that is not all

the cream! I have few fancies, Heaven knows; but I have always been

accustomed to half cream and half chocolate, and an invalid suffers

acutely from these deprivations, slight and trifling though they may

appear to one in your robust, I had almost said savage state of health."