only darling to be very particular about their
own comfort, and so her father slept in his dressing-room close by,
while the mother kept a ceaseless watch by the sick bed.

"When the lid was taken off, and nurse turned us out on the white
counterpane, I could hardly recognise my little mistress. Did these
sunken cheeks and hollow eyes, these little wasted hands belong to the
"Fower," as she had called herself? She was indeed a faded flower, a
drooping lily, and her bright, golden curls were all gone, like her
rosy, childish bloom. But sickness had not been able to subdue the
innocent, loving nature and bright spirit; and though the smile on her
pale little mouth made her mother turn away in tears, it was the same
happy tone in the weak thread of a voice that whispered:--

"'Fower make tea now! Fower been _so_ sick, but see like some tea!
mother make it now!' and the little head, shorn so sadly of its golden
glories, fell back weakly on the pillow, and the sudden gleam of light
died out of the blue eyes.

"'Yes, dear one, mother _will_ make tea for "Flower," so many cups; and
when Lily gets better and grows a strong girl again, mother and she will
have feasts every day, and all day long.'

"'Fower like that, but _so_ tired;' breathed the little one, feebly, and
so Nurse hastened to catch us all up from the bed, and hurriedly
cramming us into the box, she put us on the dressing table.

"Next day "Fower" seemed to brighten up a little, and when we were laid
out on the bed, she took us up languidly, and pretended to drink. But
she was soon weary, and even our slight weight was too heavy for the
frail hand. And so day after day passed by with no great change, finding
us each morning laid out on the bed, near the little weary hands, tired
of doing nothing; and afternoon saw us gathered away, while the curtains
were drawn across the window to keep out the bright glare of the spring
sunshine. And day by day the tender mother hoped on, while the more
experienced Nurse shook her head, and the skilful doctor was silent,
though so _very_ gentle with the anxious mother and the little drooping
child.

"At last a day came, one of the early ones in May, when even Lee thought
Lily looked clearer and brighter. Papa brought in a bunch of the finest
lilies of the valley from Covent Garden Market, and his poor, wan little
"Fower" was delighted with them.

"'It will be her birthday in a week,' said her mother, cheerfully; 'Papa
must