e
thought will come to me, Shall we have strength to go through with
it?"

"We must think of each other; that must keep us up," returned Nan,
whose ready sympathy fully understood her sister's mood. Only to Nan
would Phillis ever own her failure of courage or fears for the future.
But now and then the brave young heart needed comfort, and always
found it in Nan's sympathy.

"It was looking at your dear beautiful face that made me feel so
suddenly bad this morning," interrupted Phillis, with a sort of sob.
"It was not the people so much; they only amused and excited me, and I
kept thinking, 'If they only knew!' But, Nan, when I looked at
you--oh, why are you so nice and pretty, if you have got to do this
horrid work?"

"I am not a bit nicer than you and Dulce," laughed Nan, embracing her,
for she never could be made to understand that by most people she was
considered their superior in good looks. The bare idea made her angry.
"It is worse for you, Phillis, because you are so clever and have so
many ideas. But there! we must not go on pitying each other, or else,
indeed, we shall undermine our little stock of strength."

"But don't you feel terribly unhappy sometimes?" persisted Phillis.
Neither of them mentioned Dick, and yet he was in both their minds.

"Perhaps I do," returned Nan, simply; and then she added, with
quaintness that was pathetic, "You see, we are so unused to the
feeling, and it is over-hard at first: by and by we shall be more used
to not having our own way in things."

"I think I could give up that readily, if I could be sure you and
Dulce were not miserable," sighed Phillis.

"That is what I say," returned Nan. "Don't you see how simple and
beautiful that is? Thinking of each other gives us strength to go
through with it all. This evening trying to cheer you up has done me
good. I do not feel the least afraid of people to-night. Looking at
that sea and sky makes one feel the littleness and unreality of all
these worries. What does it matter--what does anything matter--if we
only do our duty and love each other, and submit to the Divine will?"
finished Nan, reverently, who seldom spoke of her deeper feelings,
even to Phillis.

"Nan, you are a saint," returned Phillis, enthusiastically. The
worried look had left her eyes; they looked clear and bright as usual.
"Oh, what a heathen I have been to-day! but, as Dulce is so fond of
saying, 'I am going to be good. I will read the evening Psalms to