How she loved that old name of Helvetia, printed on the stamps! Wilfrid wrote with ever fuller assurance that his father's mind was growing well-disposed, and Emily knew that he would not tell her other than the honest truth.

For Wilfrid's scrupulous honesty she would have vouched as--for her father's.
'You look dreadfully worn out,' she said, as Hood bent his head in entering.
'I am, dear.

I have been to Hebsworth, among other things.' 'Then I hope you had dinner there ?' He laughed.
'I should think I had!' It was one of Mrs.Hood's bad days; she refused to leave the kitchen.
Emily had tried to cheer her during the afternoon, but in vain.

There had been a misunderstanding with the next-door neighbour, that lady having expressed herself rather decidedly with regard to an incursion made into her premises by the Hoods' cat.
'She speaks to me as if I was a mere working-woman,' Mrs.Hood exclaimed, when Emily endeavoured to soothe her.

'Well, and what else am I, indeed?
There was a time when no one would have ventured to speak so.' 'Mother, how can you be troubled by what such a woman says ?' 'Yes, I know I am in the wrong, Emily; you always make me see that.' So Emily had retreated to the upper room, and Mrs.Hood, resenting neglect more even than contradiction, was resolved to sit in the kitchen till bedtime.
Hood was glad when he heard of this.
'If you'll pour out my tea, Emily,' he said in an undertone, 'I'll go and speak to mother for a few moments.