Left to Ourselves.

by Catharine Shaw.

CHAPTER I.

_THE FIVE._

"Mother, I'm sure you may trust me!"

"My child, I trust you for all that you know; but there are things which no one but a mother can know."

"Of course there are. Oh, I don't for a moment mean that I shall do as well as _you_, mother, only----"

"Yes," answered Mrs. Headley, thoughtfully, "you see, Agnes, your dear grandmother in America is p.r.o.nounced to be failing very fast. I have not seen her for twenty years, and if I do not go now I may never see her again in this world."

"And father's having to go there on business now makes it so easy."

"Easy all but leaving you children."

"But I am nineteen now, mother--quite old enough to be trusted; besides, grandmama and aunt Phyllis live next door, and if anything happened I could run in to them."

Mrs. Headley smiled, looking half convinced.

"Who is it you are afraid to leave?" asked Agnes coaxingly. "Is it _me_, mother?"

"_You?_" echoed Mrs. Headley, stroking her face tenderly. "No, not you, dear."

"Then it is John."

"No, no; John is a good boy, he will help you I am sure."

"Then is it Hugh?"

"No; Hugh is steady, and very fond of his lessons; and he will be sure to do as you wish him, if he promises beforehand."

"Then is it Alice?"

Mrs. Headley shook her head.

"Then it must be Minnie, for there's no one else. And as to Minnie, you know I love her exactly as if she were my own child."

Mrs. Headley laughed a little, though bright tears filled her eyes and fell down into her lap.

"Don't you think I _do_?" asked Agnes soberly--not half liking the little laugh, or the tears either for that matter.

"You love her as much as you possibly can, dearest, but that does not give you my experience. No, Agnes, it is not Minnie or any one in particular, but it is the five of you all together that I'm afraid to leave. I am so afraid they might get tired of doing as you said."

"They never have yet, mother. You ask them, and see."

Mrs. Headley looked thoughtfully into the fire, and was silent for a long time. So was Agnes, till at last she roused up suddenly and put her hand into her mother's.

"There's one Friend I shall always have near, nearer than next door; always at hand to help and counsel--eh, mother dear? We had not forgotten Him, only we did not say anything actually about Him."

"Yes, my child, I do not forget; and if I were more trustful I should not be so afraid."

Mrs. Headley rose and left the room just as the door opened, and John came in.

"Holloa, Agnes, all alone in the dark," he exclaimed, stumbling over the stools and chairs. "Why don't you have a light?"

"Mother and I were talking, and we did not want any."

"About America? Don't I wish it was me instead of her, that's all!"

"But, you see, that is not the question," said Agnes, watching her brother lean back against the mantelpiece with nervous eyes. "John, you'll knock something down."

"Not I. Of course it isn't the question; but why doesn't mother want to go?"

"She does want to go; only, you see, John, she's afraid we shall not all get on together."

"Is she afraid we shall quarrel?"

Agnes nodded.

"_I_ shan't."

"Perhaps not."

"But Hugh will?" he asked, smiling.

"Hugh and John together," answered Agnes, smiling too.

"Very likely."

"Do you think you _will_?" asked his sister, drawing back.

"What a frightened question! Agnes, look here; I'll promise you----"

"What?"

"It takes two to make a quarrel, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll promise you to walk out of the room at the first indication of a squabble. Will that make things straight?"

"If you will not forget."