“You have been gone a good while, Albert; I hope it was not because of finding the child ill?” Mr. George Eldon remarked enquiringly when his brother re-entered their office.

“She is worn out and a long rest will be very necessary, I think,” was the reply in an anxious tone, “and I for one shall do what I can to make her take it. She is certainly a bright girl and one to be proud of, George. There are none too many who would exert themselves as she has done when they might live at ease, depending on relatives able and willing to care for them.”

“No, I dare say not, but I have sometimes felt that I should prefer to have her a trifle less independent. But,” glancing at the clock, “sit down and give me an account of your visit, and the state in which you found her and the others. I see we have time enough for a chat before starting for home.”

The request was complied with, a consultation held as to how much, and in what way Ethel and the others should be assisted, then, still conversing together on the subject, the brothers started for their homes.

It was the topic of conversation at the dinner table at Mr. George Eldon’s that evening, and Dorothy and the two young men seemed much interested.

“She is a brave, industrious little woman,” said George. “I doubt if there are many girls who would have voluntarily undertaken all that she has.”

“There are certainly a great many who wouldn’t,” said William, “and I own that I am more proud of her than of my very dressy, fashionable cousins next door.”

“Or of the one sitting here, I presume,” laughed Dorothy. “I don’t blame you, Will; but perhaps I might try going into business too if your mother did not insist that she needs me here.”

“Of course she does, and so do we,” said her uncle. “There must be somebody to sew on buttons and strings and attend to various other small matters affecting our comfort.”

“And certainly Dorothy deserves the credit of attending faithfully to those small but necessary matters,” said George.

“That’s true,” said his brother, “and of making quantities of garments for other people besides. She’s a regular Dorcas, as I’ve heard mother say more than once.”

“Be careful, young men, or you’ll have me so puffed up there’ll be no living in the same house with me,” returned Dorothy with merry look and tone, “and then who’ll sew on your buttons and strings?”

“We’ll carry them to mother,” replied William with gravity. “She can’t go round the house and hunt things up, but we will do that part, and she’ll be both able and willing to tack the things on for us.”

“And you, of course, are not likely to tire of your part of the work,” returned Dorothy, “nor ever to forget to hunt up the garments and carry them to aunt in good season to have them got ready for wear when wanted. I should really like to see that poor girl—Ethel,” she continued presently. “I wonder if she would care to see me.”

“I am going round there this evening—in about an hour from now,” said her uncle. “Would you like to go with me?”

“Yes, sir; yes, indeed, if I may.”

“I shall be pleased to have you,” he returned, “as I am partial to ladies’ society and your aunt cannot go with me.”

“Have you told mother of Ethel’s break-down, sir?” asked his son George.

“Not yet, but I am going up to do so now,” Mr. Eldon replied, as they all rose from the table.

Mrs. Eldon heard the story with interest, her husband recounting to her all that his brother had told him of the little home Ethel had made for herself and the younger ones, its comforts and conveniences, and what was lacking in that line; also how completely she had overworked herself in her determined effort to provide for her little family.

“Now what can we do to help her?” she asked when he had finished. “She is worthy of help, for she has shown herself wonderfully brave, self-reliant, and industrious.”

“She has indeed,” he responded, “and must be prevented from beginning work too soon. I am going to warn her to be careful, assuring her that Albert and I will provide all that is necessary, at least until she has fully recovered her health, and strength; and I shall insist that she allows us to do so. Her father would certainly have done the same by my children had the situation be reversed; and so I shall tell her.”

“Yes; and lest she should doubt my willingness to have you do so, tell her I think it no more than one brother should do for the children of another, if he finds himself as able as you are.”

“Thank you, my dear. And now I will go at once that I may get back to you the sooner.”

He found Dorothy ready, waiting for him in the parlor below, and they set off at once.

They were joyfully welcomed on their arrival at their destination. Ethel was surprised and touched at this evidence of feeling for her on the part of her Uncle George and Dorothy. They found her awake, talked very kindly to her, showing much interest in her and the younger ones, but, perceiving that her greatest need was rest and sleep, left early, promising to come again soon. Her uncle bade her an affectionate good-by, telling her not to fret or worry about anything, but to take matters easily, trusting in Providence, and her uncles as His instruments. He took her hand as he spoke and left something in it, which on examination she found to be a five-dollar bill.

“How good in him!” she murmured; glad, grateful tears chasing each other down her cheeks.

“Uncle,” said Dorothy, as they walked along together, “I think those children need some clothes; excepting Harry, perhaps. Did you notice what a neat, new suit he had on?”

“Yes; it was a present this afternoon from his Uncle Albert. It would be no more than my share to provide for the girls whatever may be needed.”

“Well, uncle, if you’ll furnish the money I’ll do the work. Aunt and I have been working for the Dorcas society—helping to clothe the poor—and it really seems to me that the needy ones of our own family have the very first claim.”

“That is my view of the matter,” he said, “and I am ready to pay for all the material you and your aunt may think it best to buy and make up for them.”

“Oh, thank you, sir! Shall we not have a talk with aunt about it when we get home?”

“Certainly. She will be apt to know just what should be bought, and, if you like, you can do the buying to-morrow. I will furnish the funds.”

On reaching home they went directly to Mrs. Eldon’s room, gave a detailed account of their visit and the discoveries made regarding the needs of Ethel and the others, then of their plan for affording relief, of which Mrs. Eldon highly approved, and which she and Dorothy began carrying out the next morning.

The result was a joyful surprise to the three girls and a lightening of Ethel’s burden of care which greatly assisted her recovery. She strove, and with some measure of success, not to think of business cares and anxieties for some days, but as soon as she was able to be up and at work again, she proposed to her partner that they should go over their books, take an inventory of goods on hand, and find out exactly how they stood with their creditors. They did so and discovered to their dismay that, so far from having made anything, they were in debt.

“There,” exclaimed Carry, “I shall just stop right here; for if we go on I’ll only get deeper and deeper into debt.”

“Oh, no!” said Ethel. “I see where we have made mistakes. We’ll avoid them after this and will make something next year.”

“I shan’t try,” said Carry, in a despairing tone. “You, of course, will do as you like, but I’m done with the business.”

“I don’t think I am,” said Ethel.

“Then suppose you buy me out; I’ll sell cheap,” said Carry, forcing a laugh to keep from crying.

“Yes, if you’ll wait a little for your money,” replied Ethel, a sudden conviction coming to her that she could do better alone, as she and Carry did not always agree in regard to the wisdom of proposed measures.

“Yes,” said Carry, “I think it would be only fair that you should settle with the creditors first, and I know you will pay me as soon afterward as you can.”

So it came about that Ethel was soon sole proprietor of the little store, and could manage all parts of the business to suit herself. She bought goods on short credit and was very careful to pay promptly. She did not know that her uncles privately went security for her, and was rather surprised to find the wholesale merchants with whom she dealt so willing to trust her to any amount, though she never bought very largely, being far too cautious for that. She managed so well that in less than a year she was entirely free from debt and had a good run of custom; for so pleasing was her manner, so thoroughly well done her work, her stock of goods so carefully selected, that those who bought of her once were very apt to come again; also to recommend her to others.

Her uncles were kind, though her continuance in business did not meet with their warm approval. Dorothy came in occasionally to see her and her sisters. Harry was given the half-promised place in his uncle’s store, and Miss Seldon was a not infrequent visitor and customer as well. She was very kind, bought of them herself, and recommended the store to others. She would sometimes accept an invitation to stay and take tea with them, all esteeming it a delight to entertain her—she was so kind-hearted and showed such an interest in them and their affairs.

She was in easy circumstances, had travelled a good deal in this and in foreign countries, and her conversation was both interesting and instructive.

One evening a casual mention of having some years before spent a number of weeks on the island of Jamaica aroused a degree of excitement among them that surprised her.

“Jamaica!” exclaimed Blanche. “Oh, Miss Seldon, did you meet any of the well-to-do people? any of the rich planters?”

“Yes,” was the reply, “I had letters of introduction to several families and found them very hospitable; some of them most interesting and agreeable people. I particularly remember one old couple, of English descent, without children, I think—at least I did not hear of any—who made my visit of a couple of days very enjoyable, indeed.”

“What was their name, Miss Seldon?” asked Ethel half breathlessly, for her heart was beating fast between a newly aroused hope and the fear that it might not be realized.

“Eyre,” returned Miss Seldon. “But why do you ask? Oh, what is it?” for every face at the table had brightened visibly, and there was an exchange of rejoicing, exulting, excited glances.

“I think they must have been our grandparents,” said Ethel, scarcely able to speak from emotion, “mamma’s father and mother, whom we have never been able to find because we did not know their address. Oh, how glad—how glad I am!” and she wept for joy and thankfulness.

Harry and the others were scarcely less excited; they could talk of nothing else while together at the table, but soon after leaving it, Ethel, taking Miss Seldon with her, accompanied by Harry as escort, set out for her old home to inform her uncles of the discovery just made, and ask their advice in regard to the best way of opening communication with her grandparents.

“This is good news, Ethel—at least I hope it will prove so,” said her Uncle George when the story had been told; “but I am extremely doubtful if your grandparents are still living; for in that case they would surely have been hunting up their daughter’s children. But we must set on foot such enquiries as will remove all doubt, and in case of their death recover for you and your brother and sisters any property they may have left.”

At that Ethel’s eyes filled. “I want my dear grandparents a great deal more than I do their property,” she said.

“I have no doubt of that, Ethel,” said her Uncle Albert, “but in case of their death the property will be yours by right, and not to be despised; and they of course would have wished it to fall to their daughter’s children rather than to anyone else.”

“I should think so; yes, I am quite sure of it,” she said, adding with a smile, “and it will be a great help to us all in getting a start in the world.”

“Yes,” he returned, “and for that reason I shall be very glad if it turns out that there is a good deal of it.”

“We will make enquiries for you, Ethel,” said her Uncle George, “and set about it at once. So you need give yourself no farther trouble, my dear.”

“Thank you both very much, indeed, uncles,” was her reply in a tone full of grateful affection. “I think, though, that I will write a letter to my grandparents to say how dearly I love them, and how I have longed ever since dear mamma and papa died to be with them in the sweet old home I can just remember, but did not write till now because of not knowing their address. Shall I not do so?”

“I do not believe they are living, child,” replied her Uncle George. “Had they been, you surely would have heard from them in some way before this.”

“But they have not known where we were,” she returned, tears starting to her eyes again. “So I think I had better write.”

“Yes, do so if you wish. It cannot do any harm,” said her uncle Albert.

Blanche and Nannette eagerly awaited the return of their brother and sister, and on their coming besieged them with questions, asking what their uncles thought and said, and what was going to be done to find “Grandpa and Grandma Eyre.” Neither Ethel nor Harry was disposed to keep anything back, but the others were disappointed that there was so little to tell, and were almost indignant that it should be thought that their grandparents were dead. They urged Ethel to write at once and find out certainly whether they were or not.

“It is just what I intend doing,” she said, “and now, if you will be quiet, I will set to work at once. I’ll make my letter short, promising to write again as soon as we hear from them.”

The letter was written, read to the others for their approval, and mailed by Harry before they went to bed that night.

Some weeks of anxious suspense followed, then news was received of the death, some years before, of both Mr. and Mrs. Eyre. They had left property which, their daughter’s children heired, but only a part of it was recovered for them.

In the meantime the young people had talked much together of their dear old home in Jamaica, and the grandparents who had so loved and petted them in their babyhood; Ethel, at the request of the others, repeating again and again all that she could remember of the lovely place, and their life there, so different from that they were now leading, and, as they talked, the desire to return to that beautiful home and those doating grandparents grew apace.

It was therefore a sore disappointment when they learned that death had robbed them of the dear old people, orphaning them a second time. For the first few days after hearing the sad news they were almost inconsolable in their grief and disappointment, but gradually they recovered from that and felt glad and thankful because of their increased means; for though by no means sufficient to free them from the necessity of exertion, life was made easier and advantages were secured which without it were beyond their reach.

A capable woman was found who took Blanche’s place as housekeeper and cook, so that she could go back to school and resume her studies, and a young girl, who did errands and sometimes waited upon customers, was also added to the establishment.