e turned her face toward the bunch of
sweet-peas that Hildegarde laid on the pillow, and murmured, "Pitty!
pitty!"

"Aren't they sweet?" said Hildegarde. "Do you see that they have little
wings, almost like butterflies? When the wind blows, they flutter about,
and seem to be alive, almost."

The child smiled, and put her lips to the cool fragrant blossoms. "Kiss
butterf'ies!" she said; and at this Hildegarde kissed her, and went on
to the next crib.

Here lay a child of seven, her sweet blue eyes heavy with fever, her
cheeks flushed and burning. She stretched out her hands toward the
flowers, and said, "White ones! give me white ones, Lady! Red ones is
hot! Minnie is too hot. White ones is cold."

A nurse stood beside the crib, and Hildegarde looked to her for
permission, then filled the little hands with sweet alyssum and white
roses.

"The roses were all covered with dew when I picked them," she said
softly. "See, dear, they are still cool and fresh." And she laid them
against the burning cheek. "There was a great bed of roses in a lovely
garden, and while I was at one end of it, a little humming-bird came to
the other, and hovered about, and put his bill into the flowers. His
head was bright green, like the leaves, and his throat was ruby-red,
and--"

"Guess that's a lie, ain't it?" asked the child, wearily.

"Oh, no!" said Hildegarde, smiling. "It is all true, every word. When
you are better, I will send you a picture of a humming-bird."

She nodded kindly, and moved on, to give red roses to a bright little
tot in a red flannel dressing-gown, who was sitting up in bed, nursing a
rubber elephant. He took the roses and said, "Sanks!" very politely,
then held them to his pet's gray proboscis. "I's better," he explained,
with some condescension. "I don't need 'em, but Nelephant doos. He's a
severe case. Doctor said so vis mornin'."

"Indeed!" said Hildegarde, sympathetically. "I am very sorry. What is
the matter with him?"

"Mumps 'n' ague 'n' brown kitties 'n' ammonia 'n' fits!" was the prompt
reply; "and a hole in his leg too! Feel his pult!"

He held up a gray leg, which Hildegarde examined gravely. "It seems to
be hollow," she said. "Did the doctor think that was a bad sign?"

"It's fits," said the child, "or a brown kitty,--I don't know which. Is
you a nurse?"

"No, dear," said Hildegarde; "I only came to bring the flowers. I must
go away soon, but I shall think of you and the elephant, and I hope