"They are hard, and that's the truth; but there's hearts as are harder, Miss Esther," said Lyddy.
"I think not," said Esther. "This is leathery enough for the heart of the most obdurate Jew. Pray give it little Zachary for a football"
"Dear, dear, don't you be so light, miss. We may all be dead before night."
"You speak out of season, my good Lyddy," said Mr Lyon, wearily; "depart into the kitchen."
"What have you got to do to-day, father?" persisted Esther. "I have a holiday."
Mr Lyon felt as if this were a fresh summons not to delay. "I have something of great moment to do, my dear; and since you are not otherwise demanded, I will ask you to come and sit with me up-stairs."
Esther wondered what there could be on her father's mind more pressing than his morning studies.
She soon knew. Motionless, but mentally stirred as she had never been before, Esther listened to her mother's story, and to the outpouring of her step-father's long-pent-up experience. The rays of the morning sun which fell athwart the books, the sense of the beginning day, had deepened the solemnity more than night would have done. All know-
