rd as I do."

"Very likely," said Rhoda, with a gentleness that struck Polly as very
singular. "Good-night."

Rhoda spent the night watching, and thinking harder than she had ever
thought before.

Next morning, early, Polly came into the sick-room. There sat her
sister watching the patient, out of sight.

"La, Rhoda! Have you sat there all night?"

"Yes. Don't speak so loud. Come here. You've set your heart on this
lilac silk. I'll give it to you for your black merino."

"Not you, my lady; you are not so fond of mereeny, nor of me neither."

"I'm not a liar like you," said the other, becoming herself for a
moment, "and what I say I'll do. You put out your merino for me in the
dressing-room."

"All right," said Polly, joyfully.

"And bring me two buckets of water instead of one. I have never closed
my eyes."

"Poor soul! and now you be going to sluice yourself all the same.
Whatever you can see in cold water, to run after it so, I can't think.
If I was to flood myself like you, it would soon float me to my long
home."

"How do you know? _You never gave it a trial._ Come, no more chat. Give
me my bath: and then you may wash yourself in a tea-cup if you
like--only don't wash my spoons in the same water, for _mercy's sake!"_

Thus affectionately stimulated in her duties, Polly brought cold water
galore, and laid out her new merino dress. In this sober suit, with
plain linen collar and cuffs, the Somerset dressed herself, and resumed
her watching by the bedside. She kept more than ever out of sight, for
the patient was now beginning to mutter incoherently, yet in a way that
showed his clouded faculties were dwelling on the calamity which had
befallen him.

About noon the bell was rung sharply, and, on Polly entering, Rhoda
called her to the window and showed her two female figures plodding
down the street. "Look," said she. "Those are the only women I envy.
Sisters of Charity. Run you after them, and take a good look at those
beastly ugly caps: then come and tell me how to make one."

"Here's a go!" said Polly; but executed the commission promptly.

It needed no fashionable milliner to turn a yard of linen into one of
those ugly caps, which are beautiful banners of Christian charity and
womanly tenderness to the sick and suffering. The monster cap was made
in an hour, and Miss Somerset put it on, and a thick veil, and then she
no longer thought it necessary to sit out of the patient's sight.

The consequ