Marigold's Decision by Agnes Giberne

"ISN'T that like Mrs. Heavitree? " said Marigold, as the sisters reached the arbour. "Always thinking of other people, and planning for them. Don't you like her, now you're here?"

"I should just think I did. It's all true, every bit of what you told me, and I'm as happy as the day is long. I wish I could live here always."

"That's what I felt."

"Yes, I know you did; and I thought it was funny of you. But I don't think so now. I understand quite well, now I'm here. Everything is so nice and clean and pretty; and everybody is so kind. But I want to know about you at home. Is mother as cross as ever?"

"Worse, I think. She gets worse some days. Nothing I can do or say is right; and the mess the house is in! -It makes me miserable. Father isn't at home near so often in the evenings now; and I know that is the reason. He does like a tidy place to come to; and she won't have things tidy. He can't stand the mess, nor her temper."

Narcissus was silent for two or three seconds.

"That don't seem-" she said slowly.

"Don't seem what?"

"As if-our praying had done much good."

Marigold blushed a little. Had she prayed steadily-following out her own advice to Narcissus? This question arose at once.

"I don't seem to have heart for it sometimes," she said, "living in the midst of all that worry."

"But you wanted me to ask that things might be different; and I have. I've thought of it every night, when I said my prayers. I have, really."

"I suppose answers don't always come directly," said Marigold, in a subdued voice. "Mr. Heavitree says we often have to wait. But if you'll go on-I will, too. I have been wrong."

She hardly acknowledged, even to herself, how the main hindrance to prayer had been pre-occupation about James Todd.

"Yes, of course, I'll go on. Why shouldn't home be happier? It might be. Mother was so different at first."

"Sometimes she is now, just for a little while; and then it goes off, and she's as bad as ever again. I do try to bear with her, because I know I ought; but it is hard; " and Marigold's eyes were full of tears. "I can't make out what's the matter, and why she's so cross. Sometimes I think it's all jealousy. She don't seem to like father to be so fond of us."

"Mrs. Heavitree says mother is ill."

"Does she?"

"Well, she did one day lately. At least, she said she'd never seen anybody so altered, nor grown so different, and she couldn't help feeling sure that mother had a lot of pain to bear. She asked me if I didn't know what was wrong, and I said mother had rheumatism now and then; and Mrs. Heavitree said it must be something worse than rheumatism. And I don't see why mother shouldn't tell us, if there was."

"I don't know. People are so funny about health. Some are always fussing about nothing, and others won't say a word if they're downright bad. I'll keep a look-out and see if she does seem ill. That would make a lot of difference."