eat deal of
kindness.

"You should not do this, Dorothy," she said, very gently: "we cannot
afford such delicacies now."

"It is your favorite dish, Miss Nan," returned Dorothy, quite ignoring
this remark. "Susan has cooked it to a nicety; but it will be spoiled
if it is not eaten hot." And she stood over them, while Nan dispensed
the dainty. "You must eat it while it is hot," she kept saying, as she
fidgeted about the room, taking up things and putting them down again.
Phillis looked at Nan with a comical expression of dismay.

"Dorothy, come here," she exclaimed, at last, pushing away her plate.
"Don't you see that Susan is wasting all her talents on us, and that
we can't eat to-day?"

"Every one can eat if they try, Miss Phillis," replied Dorothy,
oracularly. "But a thing like that must be hot, or it is spoiled."

"Oh, never mind about it being hot," returned Phillis, beginning to
laugh. She was so tired, and Dorothy was such a droll old thing; and
how were even stewed pigeons to be appetizing under the
circumstances?

"Oh, you may laugh," began Dorothy, in an offended tone; but Phillis
took hold of her and nearly shook her.

"Oh, what a stupid old thing you are! Don't you know what a silly,
aggravating old creature you can be when you like? If I laugh, it is
because everything is so ludicrous and wretched. Nan and Dulce are not
laughing."

"No, indeed," put in Dulce; "we are far, far too unhappy!"

"What is it, Miss Nan?" asked Dorothy, sidling up to her in a coaxing
manner. "I am only an old servant, but it was me that put Miss Dulce
in her father's arms,--'the pretty lamb,' as he called her, and she
with a skin like a lily. If there is trouble, you would not keep it
from her old nurse, surely?"

"No, indeed, Dorothy: we want to tell you," returned Nan touched by
this appeal; and then she quietly recapitulated the main points that
concerned their difficulties,--their mother's loss, their future
poverty, the necessity for leaving Glen Cottage and settling down at
the Friary.

"We shall all have to work," finished Nan, with prudent vagueness, not
daring to intrust their plan to Dorothy: "the cottage is small, and,
of course, we can only keep one servant."

"I dare say I shall be able to manage if you will help me a little,"
returned Dorothy, drying her old eyes with the corner of her apron.
"Dear, dear! to think of such an affliction coming upon my mistress
and the dear young ladies! It is like an ea