CHAPTER VII. 



Something between a hindrance and a help. WORDSWORTH. 

Etheldred awoke long before time for getting up, and lay pondering over her visions. Margaret had sympathised, and therefore they did not seem entirely aerial. To earn money by writing was her favourite plan, and she called her various romances in turn before her memory, to judge which might be brought down to sober pen and ink. She considered till it became not too unreasonably early to get up. It was dark, but there was a little light close to the window: she had no writing-paper, but she would interline her old exercise-book. Down she ran, and crouching in the school-room window-seat, she wrote on in a trance of eager composition, till Norman called her, as he went to school, to help him to find a book. 

This done, she went up to visit Margaret, to tell her the story, and consult her. But this was not so easy. She found Margaret with little Daisy lying by her, and Tom sitting by the fire over his Latin. 

"Oh, Ethel, good-morning, dear! you are come just in time." 

"To take baby?" said Ethel, as the child was fretting a little. 

"Yes, thank you, she has been very good, but she was tired of lying here, and I can't move her about," said Margaret. 

"Oh, Margaret, I have such a plan," said Ethel, as she walked about with little Gertrude; but Tom interrupted. 

"Margaret, will you see if I can say my lesson?" and the thumbed Latin grammar came across her just as Dr. May's door opened, and he came in exclaiming, "Latin grammar! Margaret, this is really too much for you. Good-morning, my dears. Ha! Tommy, take your book away, my boy. You must not inflict that on sister now. There's your regular master, Richard, in my room, if it is fit for his ears yet. What, the little one here too?" 
What did he want?
o help him to find a book. 
