The days which followed were quiet and uneventful, the peaceful, happy days which imperceptibly glide into weeks and months. Carol worked diligently at his lessons. He had so much lost time to make up.

Miss Markham was surprised at the progress he made. Whatever tasks she set him he mastered with ease, and never manifested fatigue or weariness. He was still so slight, even fragile, in appearance, she sometimes feared lest she was overtaxing his strength. Once, expressing fear lest this should be so, Carol answered lightly, "It is quite right, Miss Markham, the more work I do, the more I shall be able to do. Cousin Alicia is helping me every day."

"Miss Desmond is in Devonshire, Carol, how can she help you?"

"I am sorry, Miss Markham, I forgot you do not understand," he said.

He had been so perfectly obedient to Miss Desmond's wishes in never talking about Christian Science, that, excepting Mrs. Mandeville, no one remembered anything about it in connection with the boy. But, gradually, all the household were realizing there was something strangely different about the boy from other children. No one ever heard him complain of an ache or pain. No one ever heard him speak an unkind or angry word; and if, as sometimes, though seldom, amongst the Mandeville children, little dissensions or bickerings arose, if Carol was near, they passed as a ripple on water, and all was harmony and peace again.

Nurse loved to have him in the nursery. Miss Markham missed him when he was absent from the school-room. On one occasion when he was in the nursery a heavy box-lid was accidentally allowed to fall on Rosebud's fingers. The child screamed terribly with the pain, but before Nurse could do or say anything Carol seized her in his arms, and ran out of the room with her. In less than ten minutes he brought her back again, laughing merrily.

"Naughty fingers don't hurt Rosebud now," she said.

Nurse wondered, but, like Miss Markham, she did not understand.

It happened only a few days afterward that Mrs. Mandeville did not come as usual to the school-room immediately after breakfast, and everyone was sorrowful when it was known that Mother had one of her old nervous headaches. They knew it meant not seeing her for two or three days. She suffered terribly at times with her head, and had to lie in a darkened room, unable to bear the least noise. The children hushed their laughter and trod softly, though the school-room and nurseries were too far removed from Mrs. Mandeville's apartments for any sound to reach her.

After morning school, without saying a word to any one, Carol crept so noiselessly into the darkened room that Mrs. Mandeville was unaware of his presence, until he softly touched her with his hand, and said:

"Auntie, I am so sorry you are suffering. I do want to help you. Could I--would you let me?"

"Dear boy, how sweet of you! I have frequently suffered with headaches like this for many years. Nothing can be done, dear. I can only be still and bear the pain until it passes."

Mrs. Mandeville spoke as if every word she uttered tortured her.

"Auntie, dear, won't you let me try to help you?"

"Do you mean, dear, you want to say a Christian Science prayer for me?"

"Yes, Auntie."

"Why, of course, darling, if you wish it. It is so very sweet of you!"

Carol softly kissed the hand she put out to him, and left the room, as noiselessly as he had entered, closing the door after him. He knew what pain was. He went straight to his own room and closed that door too. He did not leave his room until the gong sounded for the school-room dinner. His cousins exclaimed as he rejoined them,

"Wherever have you been all this time, Carol?"

But Carol did not say.

In the afternoon while the children were still seated round the tea-table, the school-room door opened, and Mrs. Mandeville entered the room. There was one vociferous exclamation of surprise and delight.

"Mother! Are you better?"

"I am quite better," she said, "I fell asleep. I must have slept a long time, and when I woke I felt quite well."

No one noticed the flush of joy that came to Carol's face. His hands were clasped, his eyes downcast as he silently breathed, "I thank Thee, my Father."

Before she left the room again, Mrs. Mandeville caressingly laid her hands on the boy's shoulders, and bent over to kiss his brow, but she did not allude to his visit to her room. Neither did he. Some sad days were to pass over the Manor household before Mrs. Mandeville acknowledged the help she had received.

Carol had not been long at Mandeville before he became almost as well acquainted with the villagers as his cousins. He frequently accompanied the three little girls and the second nurse, when they were deputed to carry a basket of good things to any house in the village where there was need. In this way he became acquainted with the village shoemaker, Mr. Higgs, who, in his younger days, had also acted as verger at the church. He explained to Carol the "rheumatiz" was so bad in his legs he hadn't been able to walk to church for months. He was often to be seen sitting at the open cottage door in the summer evenings, with an open Bible on his knees, his hands folded on it, for the print was too small for his failing eyesight.

Carol was thoughtful as he walked home. When Mrs. Mandeville paid her usual visit to his bedroom in the evening, she found him sitting up in bed, waiting for her. He was always awake when she came, but since she had desired him not to read in bed he never had a book in his hand. So often he greeted her with the words, "Auntie, I have been thinking."

"Well, darling, what have you been thinking about to-night?" she asked before he spoke, well knowing from his attitude that he had been thinking either of some pleasing or some perplexing subject.

"I have been thinking of something I can do, Auntie, if you will let me. It is only a very little thing, but if we do not begin with little things, we shall not be able some day to do big things, shall we? I so often think about Jesus when he was twelve years old, he said, 'I must be about my Father's business.' I am twelve years old, and God is my Father, too. I want to be about His business. When I was talking to old Mr. Higgs this morning, he told me he cannot walk to church now, and his eyes are so bad he cannot see to read the Bible. I thought I would like to go sometimes and read it to him, and help him to understand it. Would you let me, Auntie dear? It is such a little thing."

"Why, of course, dear; there can be no reason why you should not, if you wish to. I don't think Uncle Raymond can have any possible objection. Anyway, if I give you permission, that will be sufficient, will it not?"

"Oh, yes, Auntie; thank you so very much. May I go every Sunday evening?"

"Yes, dear; and perhaps it may not be such a little thing as you think."

Mrs. Mandeville thought of her own two boys. How different Carol was!

Neither of them would have dreamed of doing such a thing. "But," she mused, "his long illness has changed him."

"Auntie, I often try to picture Jesus in his humble home at Nazareth. I wish we knew more. When he returned with Joseph and Mary after the visit to the Temple, and was always obedient to them, I sometimes wonder if they kept him back from going about his Father's business, because they did not understand; and if he played on the hillsides with the other village boys, and no one knew until he was a man, that he was Jesus the Christ."

"There are many legends of his boyhood, dear, but they are only legends. We cannot accept anything except what is narrated in the Gospels. You must read Canon Farrar's 'Life of Christ.' That will help you to understand that the Apostles were, without doubt, divinely instructed to record so little of the boyhood of Jesus. There is a copy in the library. I will look it out for you."

"Thank you so much, Auntie. I shall be glad to read it."

Then clinging both arms round her neck, as she stooped to kiss him, he said:

"I do love your coming to my room like this, Auntie. I always keep awake till you come."

"I, too, enjoy our little talks, dear. You often give me a beautiful thought to take away with me: something I have not thought of before."

The boy lay awake a long time after Mrs. Mandeville left him, thinking joyfully of the work that had come to him, wondering how he should open the pages of that wonderful book, as they had been opened to him. "Teach me, Father-Mother God, the words of Truth that will help him," he prayed. Finally, he fell asleep with the words on his lips of the boy Samuel: "Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth."