nd, as if he expected to see some fairy issue from the
grove of trees near by. "Why, Lucy Mason's cough. Mother says she will
not live to see the little snow-birds come again. Poor, dear Lucy!" The
great tear-drops rolled fast over Nelly's red cheeks, and fell like rain
upon her little hand. "Oh, Phil, I'll tell you what;--I'll give these
strawberries to Lucy. She used to love them dearly."

"Poh! poh! Nelly; what a silly girl! to give them away when Mrs. Preston
will give you such a deal of money for them!"

"But, Phil, Lucy's mother is poor; she can't buy them for her, and you
can't think how well Lucy loves them."

"Well, what if she does, and what if she is poor? can't her mother pick
them over in the fields, if she wants them so bad? I wouldn't give them
away."

"For shame, Phil Morton! To think of poor old Mrs. Mason's going over in
the fields to pick strawberries, leaving Lucy all alone, and so sick! I
shouldn't have thought it of you, Phil. No, indeed I shouldn't. Give me
the basket," said Nelly sorrowfully; "I shall give them to Lucy." Phil
silently handed the basket to her, and, without speaking, he followed
Nelly as she went round to the cottage door.

The tears ran silently down the poor widow's cheek as she led the
children to her sick child's room, for it touched her heart to see young
and thoughtless children so attentive to her poor Lucy. "And did you
come all this way, you and Phil, Nelly, to bring me these nice
strawberries?" without waiting for her to reply, she turned to a little
choice tea-rose that stood beside her, and, breaking off two half-blown
buds, she gave them to Phil and Nelly, saying as she did so, "It's all I
have to give you, darlings, for your kindness to me, but I know that you
will like them as coming from your sick friend."

The bright blood flashed over Phil's dark brow and crimsoned even his
ears. Poor Phil! The shame and remorse of those few minutes washed away
his unthinking sin, and Nelly forgave him, and tried with all her power
to make him forget it. But the kind though thoughtless boy was not
satisfied until he had sent Lucy a pretty little basket filled with rare
and beautiful flowers, gathered from his father's large garden. Then,
and not till then, did he look with pleasure upon the rose Lucy had
given him.

Some time after the above occurrence, perhaps a week, Nelly was sitting
in her low rocking-chair, under the shadow of the portico, sewing as
busily as her nim