iza
slipped into the farmhouse and squeezed in after her mother to the
little room where Becky was lying, a white-faced feverish little
creature, low down among the pillows.

"Becky," said Tiza, sitting down beside her sister, as if nothing had
happened, "here's some strawberries. Wheeler gave me some. You can have
some if you want."

"Just one," said Becky, in her weak shaky voice, smiling at her; and
Tiza knelt on the bed and stuffed one softly into her mouth.

"You'll have to nurse baby now, Tiza," said Becky presently; "he's been
under mother's feet terrible. Mind you don't let him eat nasty things.
He'll get at the coals if you don't mind him."

"I'll not let him," said Tiza shortly, setting to work on her own
strawberries.

All this didn't sound very affectionate; but I think all the same Tiza
did love Becky, and I believe she tried to do her best in her own funny
way while Becky was ill. Baby screamed a good deal certainly when she
nursed him, and it was quite impossible of course for Tiza to keep out
of mischief altogether for two or three weeks. Still, on the whole, she
was a help to her mother; while as for Becky she was never quite happy
when Tiza was out of the house. Becky, like Milly, had a way of loving
everybody about her, and next to her mother she loved Tiza best of
anybody.

After all, the children were able to say good-bye to Becky. Just the day
before they were to go away Mr. Backhouse came down to say that Becky
would like to see them very much if they could come, and the doctor said
they might.

So up they went; Milly a good deal excited, and Olly very curious to see
what Becky would look like. Mr. Backhouse took them in, and they found
Becky lying comfortably on a little bed, with a patchwork counterpane,
and her shoulders and arms covered up in a red flannel dressing-gown
that Aunt Emma had sent her.

[Illustration: "'Haven't you got a bump?' asked Olly"]

Milly kissed her, and Olly shook her hand, and they didn't all quite
know what to say.

"Is your back better?" said Milly at last. "I'm so glad the doctor let
us come."

"Haven't you got a bump?" asked Olly, looking at her with all his eyes.
"We thought you'd have a great black bump on your fore-head, you
know--ever so big."

"No, it's a cut," said Becky; "there now, you can see how it's plastered
up."

"Did it hurt?" said Olly, "did you kick? I should have kicked. And does
the doctor give you nasty medicine?"

"No," said