licate about receiving it from
a stranger; but Mrs. Mason, to whom all her thoughts and feelings were
confided, advised her to return, and accordingly the first day of the
term found her again at Mount Holyoke, where she was warmly welcomed
by her teachers and companions. Still it did not seem like the olden
time, for Ida was not there, and Jenny's merry laugh was gone. She had
hoped that her sister would accompany her, but in reply to her
persuasions, Ella answered that "she didn't want to work,--she wasn't
obliged to work,--and she wouldn't work!" quoting Rose Lincoln's "pain
in the side, callous on her hand, and cold on her lungs," as a
sufficient reason why every body should henceforth and for ever stay
away from Mount Holyoke.

Mrs. Lincoln, who forgot that Rose had complained of a pain in her
side long before she ever saw South Hadley, advised Mrs. Campbell, by
all means, never to send her daughter to such a place. "To be sure it
may do well enough," said she, "for a great burly creature like Mary
Howard, but your daughter and mine are altogether too delicate and
daintily bred to endure it."

Mrs. Campbell of course consented to this, adding that she had secured
the services of a highly accomplished lady as governess for Ella, and
proposing that Rose and Jenny, instead of accompanying their mother to
the city as usual, should remain with her during the winter, and share
Ella's advantages. To this proposition, Mrs. Lincoln readily assented,
and while Mary, from habitual exercise both indoors and out, was
growing more and more healthful and vigorous, Rose Lincoln, who was
really delicate, was drooping day by day, and growing paler and paler
in the closely heated school-room, where a breath of fresh air rarely
found entrance, as the "accomplished governess" could not endure it.
Daily were her pupils lectured upon the necessity of shielding
themselves from the winter winds, which were sure "to impart such a
rough, blowzy appearance to their complexion."

Rose profited well by this advice, and hardly any thing could tempt
her into the open air, unless it were absolutely necessary. All day
long she half reclined upon a small sofa, which at her request was
drawn close to the stove, and even then complaining of being chilly
she sometimes sat with her shawl thrown over her shoulders. Jenny, on
the contrary, fanned herself furiously at the farthest corner of the
room, frequently managing to open the window slyly, and reg