so ready as I used to be to run my head needlessly against a brick wall,-nothing more. Well, do as you like, I think you will put yourself in a very awkward predicament, and do no good,-papa-the truth is he leaves everything about us to mamma."

"I don't care," answered Barbara, doggedly, "I am not going to be a slave and a butt for no good. If I am to have a place in the house, I am sure," she added, her eyes filling with tears, "I will do my best to fill it. But I cannot be content to go on not knowing whether I ought to interfere or whether I ought not and feeling that whichever I do anyone may defy me who chooses."

"When can you catch him to speak to him ?”

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Now, at once, as soon as he comes home. If I do not then, I shall not have an opportunity."

'He is so tired and worried, and mamma never troubles him."

"And if I were mamma," answered Barbara, half proudly, half sadly, "I should not trouble him. I should have a place then, and know its duties.' "Well, wait for a better opportunity." "You mean put it off for ever. As soon as papa is ready, dinner, then he goes to sleep, then ten to one but he passes the evening in mamma's room, and we downstairs should have the morning disturbances again. No, I am resolved."

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Well," said Paul, "I own in theory you are right; in reality, I am afraid you will find you have done*an unprecedented, unpopular and unpleasant thing, and yet be no further nor wiser for having done it."

I

"That is not my concern. I leave right to take care of itself. He is coming up the lane now. must go."

"Well, don't be in such a hurry; let me come to the house with you: I must go in before dinner-time."

Paul put her arm in his,-it trembled. They walked in silence to the hall, where he left her, turning back on the first landing to look once more at her proudly

and pityingly. He admired her clear-headed resolution, he pitied her for the entire misapprehension and disappointment which he felt sure awaited her.

Mr. Wynne came up the flags with so slow and weary a step that Barbara felt the first moment as if she must do as their mother, and greet him with none but cheerful words. The next she called herself weak to think of missing her single opportunity for speaking a word to him alone, and as he entered the ball came forward, saying as unfalteringly as she could, "Papa, may I speak to you one minute ?"

"Eh, what ?" he asked in great surprise at so unprecedented a request, adding hastily in a tone full of alarm, "your mother is not ill ?"

"No, no," answered Barbara, full of her own thoughts, then, remembering herself, "she is not very well, and has not been down all day, but it's only over-fatigue, she says. Please, papa,' as Mr. Wynne was hurrying on, "give me five minutes.' "Well," said her father, resigning himself to his fate, and following her to the parlour.

Barbara knew not how to begin. He in such impatient haste, she so frightened and awestruck at finding herself face to face with her father to ask for directions in the household duties of life, having so long a tale to tell that she could have laughed or cried with vexation at having forced herself and it upon him at such an inopportune moment.

"Papa, it is this," she began at last, trying to strike at the root of the matter and avoid details, now Hetty is gone, whenever mamma is laid up, as she is to-day, I become the head of the house, and I want you to tell me if I have any authority or not."

My dear, what do you mean ?"

"That I seem answerable for all the boys do—if they make too much noise, if Gordon won't come to his lessons, and yet I have no power to make them obey me."

"That is, my dear," said Mr. Wynne, meaning to

be very patient and kind, "because you are not used to it; you soon will be so."

"Oh, papa, pray_understand me," cried Barbara, detaining him, "if I am to get used to such things as went on to-day, it will be becoming used to being disobeyed and defied and ill-treated, and expecting no redress. You don't know how disobedient and mean and violent Gordon is!"

"Well, my dear, you must speak to mamma about it." "I cannot, papa, when she is so ill."

"It is very odd, Barbara," answered Mr. Wynne out of all patience, "that the very first day you should come to me full of complaints of a boy against whom I never heard a word from either mamma or Hetty. The only inference I can draw is, that you are but a poor substitute for either."

Mr. Wynne had scarcely ever been aggravated into so harsh a speech to any of his children before, nor would he have been so now but for a series of annoyances and troubles,-the unexpected addition to his business cares which that afternoon's post had brought him, his anxiety to be with his wife, his extreme vexation at Barbara's (to him) foolish delay, and last, but perhaps not least, his great need of his dinner. How few men would have kept their temper perfectly under such united provocations, when as hungry and exhausted as Mr. Wynne was. Kind-hearted man!

how great would have been his concern could he have seen the despair, mortification, and grief which his words caused his daughter. Nevertheless his consolation would have been, "Poor girl, I did not mean to hurt you, but you must take all such questions to your mother.'

Barbara sank down the minute he was gone, and burst into tears as passionate as any which Gordon himself had shed that afternoon. "How cruel! how unkind! how unjust! no one cares for me! no one but Paul, and even he dissuades me from what he owns is right, for the sake of saving me from-the re

E

buff I have received, I suppose. Well, if I did not deserve it this time, I daresay I have often enough when I have not had it, so I won't think any more of its injustice, but run up and change my dress."

She dashed away her tears, ran up stairs, changed her dress, came down again, greeted her father with a smile, cheered him about his wife, took all the pains a wife could have done to gratify his likes and dislikes at dinner, and proved that if she were not a good or wise elder sister, she was a wise and good daughter; and the more praise is due to her that she was conscious her eyes were red and her features swollen, and thus she felt doubly inclined to be shy and sullen.

The schoolroom inmates gave no sort of even fear of annoyance, and thus on the whole the dinner passed off as comfortably and cheerfully as it could ever do without Mrs. Wynne; Paul coming to Barbara's aid vigorously and effectively. After dinner, when she was preparing to leave them, he stopped her to ask where she was going.

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Only to sit in the school-room.”

Oh, I'll take my book there. Don't you want to finish your conference ?"

"Ah, Paul," she said sadly, "you were right."

"I don't know that. No, try again, but choose a better opportunity," he answered, glancing at Mr. Wynne, who was already dozing in his arm-chair.

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"Yes, I have learnt that lesson," answered Barbara ; yes, when papa wakes I will try again. I only want him to tell Gordon that he is to mind me: one word from one who so seldom speaks will be enough."

Paul went, and Barbara read till Mr. Wynne began to awake.

"Ah, you here, my dear? I am sorry you stayed, I have made but a poor companion."

"I stayed, papa, because if you would hear what happened to-day, I am sure you would help me."

Yes, my dear, anything I can do, but indeed I have nothing to do with the boys."

"May I tell you ?"

"Well," he answered, looking at his watch, "I can carry it to mamma for you.'

Barbara groaned inwardly, "As you think best about that, papa, but I do not want to make any fuss. Only if would tell Gordon he is to mind me, or else tell me I am not to mind him. Either way Ι should be happier than now."

you

"Well, my dear, I will do whichever you wish."

"Will you indeed, papa ?" cried Barbara, joyfully, "then do please, papa, just tell him that when you are away, and mamma is ill, he is to obey me, then he will know I have a right to order him, but now he laughs at or minds me just as he chooses.'

Mr. Wynne made no further remark, and Barbara feared that he was relapsing into slumber.

"Then, papa,

," she continued, after a minute's I tell him to come in, that you may

tell

"Tell him what? Oh, to mind you. Very well, my dear. But I think it's a great to-do about nothing."

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Papa, I do not think you would think so if you knew how he had kicked and treated me altogether." “Kicked you, my dear ?" asked her father, aroused. "Yes, but never mind," answered Barbara, quickly, knowing that when Mr. Wynne did interfere with the boys he was as severe as he was usually lenient.

"That certainly must be put a stop to. Send him in."

Barbara went to the schoolroom, found Gordon, and to his no small dismay told him that his father wanted to speak to him; "Well done, Barbara!" thought Paul.

;

Barbara, woman-like, stayed to protect the victim. she had herself denounced, but there was no need the culprit looked such a mere child, was so thoroughly awed already, and was so tenderly beloved by his wife, that Mr. Wynne contented himself with saying,