"Then I shall hope to see him, some day, and that will be one consolation." Joel was comforted by his friends, and his own kind, helpful deeds were bearing fruit for him.

It was arranged that Joel should board--he would hear of no other arrangement--with Mrs. Hazeley until he should find his sister, and see how she was situated, before returning to his employment.

Flora's news was almost forgotten in the general rejoicing over Harry's unexpected return and the equally unexpected addition to the little household in Joel. But when things were somewhat quieted down, she had something wonderful to relate also.

"Well, well, well," said Mrs. Hazeley. "To think of sister Sarah softening, at her age. When will wonders cease!"

Harry did not approve of this proposed breaking up of their own little home. He feared it might be but a pa.s.sing whim of Aunt Sarah's.

"Oh, no," maintained Flora, stoutly. "Whatever else Aunt Sarah is, she is not fickle. When she says she means to do a thing, that thing is as good as done."

"That's very true," said her mother. So it was settled that, after due preparation, the family should move to Brinton.

The only regret that Flora felt at leaving her home in Bartonville was that she would be obliged to part with her cla.s.s of girls, whom she loved and who loved her. She comforted herself with the thought that she would have another, if possible, in Brinton. The girls she left behind always cherished the memory of their young teacher, and strove to imitate her gentle, earnest ways, and n.o.ble traits. Surely, the seed she had sown in their hearts would spring up, blossom, and bear fruit for the Master's kingdom.

CHAPTER XVI.

LOTTIE'S TRIALS.

"Well! Things have come to a pretty pa.s.s! Here I've been running up and down, here and there and everywhere, like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to please Aunt Emmeline, and I'm just about as near doing it now as I was when I commenced. It's grumble, grumble, grumble, every minute in the day; and I will not stand it--not a day longer, now!" and Lottie gave the fire a vigorous shake that sent the sparks darting hither and thither, in every direction.

It was hard for her. Lottie conscientiously did all she could for the fretful invalid upstairs. But her efforts were not appreciated. Instead, Mrs. Durand seemed to grow more irritable daily. Nothing Lottie did pleased her; the tea was either too weak or too strong; the toast either too hot or too cold; the beef-tea was too highly seasoned, or not enough. Thus the fault-finding continued, day in and day out.

Heretofore Lottie had succeeded in bearing with her captious patient fairly well, her natural patience and sweetness of disposition being a great help to her. But this day her task seemed a little harder to bear than usual, and a short time before the outburst at the opening of the chapter the climax was reached, when her aunt struck her with the cane she used to aid her in getting about the room, for she was able to go about a very little during the day.

Lottie had been sent for some water, and in her zeal to please her aunt by being quick about it, had spilled a few drops in that good woman's lap, and she, without stopping to think, had given her niece a rap with her stick.

"No, I shall not stand it another minute," muttered Lottie, as she angrily paced the floor of the little room, whither she had rushed from her aunt's presence.

Apparently she had determined to do something, for she went to work energetically to put everything to rights. She put more coal on the fire, and, in fact, did everything she deemed necessary. Then she stole quietly up to her room, packed some things in a bundle, and noiselessly left the house.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Hazely Family. Page 153.]

Where was she going? She did not know. What was she going to do? She only knew that she was going far away from her Aunt Emmeline's, where she had been insulted. The old poplar solemnly waved its long, bare arms over her head, as if wishing her "good-bye." She had a vague idea she would go and find her friend Flora; she would at least advise her what to do, for, after once fairly in the street, the fact that she had no home but the one she was leaving behind, made itself felt very plainly.

She had not seen Flora since that first day when they had met accidentally, and she had almost forgotten the way she had come, for she had been in such a hurry she gave little heed to anything. She would go as best she could remember. It seemed to her that she was walking a great distance, and when at length she came to a small public square, she sat down upon one of the cold, damp seats, almost discouraged, and utterly unhappy. No mother, no home--nothing but misery. The tears were very near the surface, when she heard her name called at no great distance.

That was strange, though the voice sounded familiar. Stranger still, however, was the sight of a young man making his way rapidly toward her with a shuffling gait, and leaning upon two canes. Although the face seemed familiar, Lottie was frightened, and was preparing to run away when her steps were arrested by the strange young man saying, in half-laughing, half-vexed tones:

"Why, Lottie, girl, don't you know your brother Joel?"

"What? Not my brother Joel?" exclaimed Lottie, joyously, yet distrustfully.

"The very same, and yet not the same," replied Joel, sadly, as he remembered how great was the physical change in him, and which was so apparent.

"I was straight and strong when you last saw me, Lottie," he said, looking down at his twisted limbs. "I was straight and strong when I left the old home, and now you see what I am." And he seated himself beside Lottie, who had remained on the bench.

"Oh, Joel, what made you so?" she cried, in a distressed voice.

"Never mind about that now, little sister. I will tell you all about it some time. But mother----"

"Didn't you know? She is dead." And Lottie burst into tears, while the half-repressed sobs of the utterly miserable girl, shook her slender frame.

"Yes, I know," answered her brother, softly.

"How did you know?" asked Lottie, as she raised her tear-stained face in surprise at his knowledge, when she knew he had been away so long.

"Never mind that, either," returned Joel; "but tell me everything."

Lottie told about the death of their mother, then added:

"Oh, Joel, she so wanted to see you before she died, and now it's too late."

"Yes, too late." The words found an echo in the young man's own breast.

He had put it off too long, this home-coming. Hoping and wanting to come back to his home and parents, well able to take care of himself and to help them too, he had waited, and worked, and saved, and now she for whom he so longed was not here to bid him welcome. The thought also came to him that it was well this "too late" came only in the disappointment of earthly hopes. Suppose it meant the loss of his soul as well? Then another thought came, this time full of comfort and peace:

"She will know I am changed, and I shall meet her in heaven."

Then he turned to his sister, feeling that here was a work for him--a legacy left him by his mother.

"Where is father, Lottie?" he asked a moment later, inwardly wondering at her presence here.

"Father? Oh, after mother's death he couldn't stay there any more, he said, and so he went away to work. Out west, I believe," she added, rather glad than otherwise to break the silence that had followed her last words. "I haven't seen him since he brought me to live here."

"Live here? With whom?" inquired her brother.

"With Aunt Emmeline." And then she poured forth into sympathetic ears a recital of her woes, inflicted largely by her aunt.

"What are you going to do?" asked Joel, when she finished. "Are you going back?"

"No, I am not. That settles it!"

"Never?"

"No, never!"

Joel was amused. He well knew that the angry girl would be obliged, sooner or later, to modify her emphatic and hasty a.s.sertions. However, he thought it best to make no criticism, at least until she should see her folly and mistake herself; so he only said:

"Well, I guess you had better come with me just now. Both of us will catch cold if we stay here much longer."

Unquestioningly, Lottie arose. She did not care where she went, so long as she was with Joel, who now was all she had to cling to.

The sight of poor, deformed Joel, hobbling painfully along, touched Lottie's heart as nothing else could have done, as she contrasted his shrunken body with her own strong, robust self. She felt almost glad her mother could not see him now--she had been so proud of Joel's strength.