ou
can walk and run, as you used to; but they will soon pass. You needn't
mind about May-day; it is always too cold for flowers, and you will
find more here among your own plants, than on the hills, to fill your
baskets," answered Mrs. Minot, hastening to suggest something pleasant
to beguile the time of probation.

"I can wait. Months are not years, and if I'm truly getting well,
everything will seem beautiful and easy to me," said Jill, laying
herself down again, with the patient look she had learned to wear, and
gathering up the scattered carnations to enjoy their spicy breath, as if
the fairies hidden there had taught her some of their sweet secrets.

"Dear little girl, it has been a long, hard trial for you, but it is
coming to an end, and I think you will find that it has not been time
wasted, I don't want you to be a saint quite yet, but I am sure a
gentler Jill will rise up from that sofa than the one who lay down there
in December."

"How could I help growing better, when you were so good to me?" cried
Jill, putting up both arms, as Mrs. Minot went to take Frank's place,
and he retired to the fire, there to stand surveying the scene with calm
approval.

"You have done quite as much for us; so we are even. I proved that to
your mother, and she is going to let the little house and take care of
the big one for me, while I borrow you to keep me happy and make the
boys gentle and kind. That is the bargain, and we get the best of it,"
said Mrs. Minot, looking well pleased, while Jack added, "That's so!"
and Frank observed with an air of conviction, "We couldn't get on
without Jill, possibly."

"Can I do all that? I didn't know I was of any use. I only tried to be
good and grateful, for there didn't seem to be anything else I could
do," said Jill, wondering why they were all so fond of her.

"No real trying is ever in vain. It is like the spring rain, and flowers
are sure to follow in good time. The three gifts Patience gave Saint
Lucy were courage, cheerfulness, and love, and with these one can work
the sweetest miracles in the world, as you see," and Mrs. Minot pointed
to the pretty room and its happy inmates.

"Am I really the least bit like that good Lucinda? I tried to be, but I
didn't think I was," asked Jill softly.

"You are very like her in all ways but one. _She_ did not get well, and
_you_ will."

A short answer, but it satisfied Jill to her heart's core, and that
night, when she lay in bed, she