Mr. Percy's politeness just enabled him to suppress a groan. He had seen
Mrs. Bayne once, and not been delighted,--and a sick child! However,
duty before all. They stopped at the gate of the Parsonage. It was a
tolerably large house, standing on a sloping lawn, overlooking the river
on one side and the little town on the other; but the lawn was entered
only by a wicket, so that Bob had to be fastened to the railing, while
the visitors walked up to the house.

The moment they were seen approaching three or four children ran out of
the hall, where they were playing, and fell upon Mrs. Bellairs.

"Don't eat me," she cried, kissing them all in turn. "Which is the
invalid? Where is mamma?"

"It was Nina," shouted a chorus; "she fell into the river. Mamma's in
the house."

By this time they had reached the door, and Mrs. Bayne appeared, having
been attracted by their voices. She was a little woman, thin and worn,
so worn indeed, by many children and many cares, that she looked fifty
instead of thirty-five. She had on a faded dress, and her collar and
cuffs had been soiled and crumpled by the attacks of her younger boys
and girls, especially the fat baby she held in her arms; but she had
long ago ceased to be embarrassed by the shabbiness of her toilette, or
the inevitable disorder of her sitting-room. She found seats for her
guests, and to do so pushed into the background the baby's cradle and an
old easy-chair, in which the luckless Nina was sitting bundled up in
shawls.