RHODA HIDES AWAY HER HOUSEHOLD SKELETON.

Luke came home from the theatre weary and saddened as no fatigue could have left him. His step was heavy as he came up stairs; his eyes dim with grief that was too proud for weeping. He flung his violin-case on the bed with a jar that made the instrument within send forth a faint wail. Then he lay down quietly by it, and covering his face with both hands, gave way to the grief that overwhelmed him. His mouth, so feminine in its sweetness, began to quiver, a flush of red glowed on such portions of his forehead as the hands did not conceal.

"She did not look toward me, not once—not once!" he complained, turning suddenly, and throwing his arm over the violin, as if that had some power to comfort him. "Not once, and I know that she is going away. Oh! that terrible West! it swallows up everything that we love—the good lady, pretty Constance, and now her——"

The door of the outer room opened softly, and Rhoda came in, leading her father by the hand, or, rather, dragging him along with all her little might, scolding him whenever she could get breath enough for speech.

"How could you do it, you wicked, wicked, old darling? How could you go down there and get yourself unsteady again? Don't you know that the neighbors see it, and talk about it, and make fun? The next time I'll lock you in and put the key in my pocket. I will."

"No you won't, little one—no you won't do any such thing, you pint of cider—you threatening your own father. I—I'm ashamed of you, Rhoda. I'm hu—humili—ated and dread—dreadfully dis—cou—couraged. Remember the scripters, Bi—Bible, I—I mean. Hon—hon—or thy fa—fa—ther and th—thy mo——"

"Oh, father, father! don't say that! Don't mention her name when the drink is hot on your lips—I can't stand it," cried Rhoda, seizing the little, dry hand which was waving to and fro, with a motion feeble as his broken speech. "Don't, don't mention _her_."

"Why—why not? She was a—a splendid—a—a——"

"Father, father! I won't hear it. Stop now this minute. What do you want to hurt me so, for?"

Here Weeks was seized with a fit of maudlin tenderness, and throwing out his arms, half fell from his chair in attempting to embrace the child, who evaded him, for his hot breath made her faint.

She sat down a little way off in piteous distress. "Oh, dear! what can I do—what can I do?" she cried out, wringing her little hands. "He grows worse and worse. I can't keep him in the house, all I can do; the neighbors will find us out. Oh, father, dear! please, please don't go down to the corner again."

"No, not go—go to the cor—cor—ner. Who—who's b—been to—to—to the cor——"

Here poor little Weeks gave out, his head drooped on his breast, and his eyes closed, both hands fell heavily, he became quite oblivious of the poor child and everything else.

That moment Luke came out of the bedroom, his fine eyes heavy with sadness, and his lips tremulous. He stole up to Rhoda and put an arm around her neck. She started and looked around.

"Oh! it is only you, Luke! I thought it might be some one else come to pity us, you know."

"Shall I help you get him into the bed-room, Rhoda?"

"Yes, yes; people are always coming in."

Rhoda shook her father, who opened his heavy eyes with a stare, and made him attempt to stand up.

"Wha—what is—is it? Fi—fire! N—no. It's only a doz—dozen candles ho—hop—ping about. Stop 'em—stop 'em."

"Come to bed, father, come. It's getting late, and you are not well," said Luke, allowing the little man to rest on him.

"Never—never bet—better in my life; but, as it's you, I'll go to bed cer—certainly. I—I will."

So Luke, staggering under the weight of his father's heavy pressure, led the old man away, and soon a deep, sonorous breathing proved that he had sunk into a profound sleep. Then Luke came into the room again, and sat down despondent enough, while Rhoda went up to his chair and leaned upon it, sighing wearily.

"What is the matter now, Luke? Something more than father, I can see."

The boy lifted his fine eyes to hers, and answered with frank mournfulness.

"Rhoda, she is going away!"

"Going away? Where?"

"Out west."

"How do you know, Luke?"

"This way. Last night I followed her home from the theatre. I always do that, Rhoda, and I think she knows it; for sometimes I slip a little bunch of flowers into her hand; sometimes I hold the carriage-door when she gets in, and then she thanks me, you know. To-night she stood in the lobby while her father spoke to a gentleman, and I heard him say that the whole family were going west, to be gone he was not sure how long. He had interests in some town where the railroad is to be, and was going to live there. Oh, Rhoda! it seemed as if I would faint, the words came on me so suddenly. _She_ turned and looked at me, smiling; but when she saw my face, the smile was gone; and reaching out her hand for the flowers I held, she said very softly, 'Good-bye. I shall miss your music and your flowers where we are going.'

"Rhoda, my hand trembled so it dropped the flowers. I fell on my knees to gather them up, and so kissed her foot under the hem of her dress, for the crowd was great, and no one could see how my poor heart was breaking.

"When I gave her the flowers, she shook my hand _so_ kindly, and said she hoped to see me again some time. Oh, Rhoda! that word breaks my heart. When will it be? When can it be?"

"Don't fret, Luke. You have your music left," said Rhoda, sadly at a loss for some means of consolation; for her bright, practical nature found it difficult to comprehend the passion and sensitive refinement of his; "besides, I will be _so_ good to you."

"You always are good to me," answered the lad, with a mist of tears in his large eyes.

Rhoda kissed his forehead and smoothed his hair like a little old woman; and then the tears began to drop large and fast, for the boy no longer tried to restrain them.

"No," said Rhoda, smitten with self-reproach, "I didn't sew the buttons on your tunic after last week's wash, and you had to fasten it with a pin. It shan't happen any more; but I was _so_ tired that night, and he came home so—but never mind that, you needn't trouble about buttons, I promise you."