. The chamber
she went into--after knocking and receiving permission to enter,
according to the rule which had been impressed upon her--was a
tolerably-furnished bedroom, which, with its bright fire, tasteful
little lamp, white coverlets and general air of fresh orderliness, made
a comfortable appearance. The air was scented, too, with some pleasant
odour of a not too pungent kind. But the table lacked one customary
feature; no tea was laid as it was wont to be at this hour. The child
gazed round in surprise. Her mother was in bed, lying back on raised
pillows, and with a restless, half-pettish look on her face.

"Where have you been?" she asked querulously, her voice husky and
feeble, as if from a severe cold. "Why are you so late?"

Ida did not answer at once, but went straight to the bed and offered
the accustomed kiss. Her mother waved her off.

"No, no; don't kiss me. Can't you see what a sore throat I've got? You
might catch it. And I haven't got you any tea," she went on, her face
growing to a calmer expression as she gazed at the child "Ain't I a
naughty mother? But it serves you half right for being late. Come and
kiss me; I don't think it's catching. No, perhaps you'd better not."

But Ida started forward at the granted leave, and kissed her warmly.

"There now," went on the hoarse voice complainingly, "I shouldn't
wonder if you catch it, and we shall both be laid up at once. Oh, Ida,
I do feel that poorly, I do! It's the draught under the door; what else
can it be? I do, I do feel that poorly!"

She began to cry miserably. Ida forgot all about the tale she had to
tell; her own eyes overflowed in sympathy. She put her arm under her
mother's neck, and pressed cheek to cheek tenderly.

"Oh, how hot you are, mother! Shall I get you a cup of tea, dear?
Wouldn't it make your throat better?"

"Perhaps it would; I don't know. Don't go away, not just yet. You'll
have to be a mother to me to-night, Ida. I almost feel I could go to
sleep, if you held me like that."

She closed her eyes, but only for a moment, then started up anxiously.

"What am I thinking about! Of course you want your tea."

"No, no; indeed I don't, mother."

"Nonsense; of course you do. See, the kettle is on the bob, and I think
it's full. Go away; you make me hotter. Let me see you get your tea,
and then perhaps it'll make me feel I could drink a cup. There, you've
put your hair all out of order; let me smooth it. Don't trouble to lay