tance
which the poor woodsman I met would undoubtedly give after my
suggestion, I was obliged, my dear madam, to return to you."

"Oh, my dear Grim," cried Laura, "how could you leave them to starve!
Let us go, dear Motherkin--pray let us go to those poor little children.
Quick! quick! they must be suffering so much."

She fell on her knees before the Motherkin in her great anxiety and
excitement, and the tears of pity rolled down from her blue eyes.

Grim nodded his head with satisfaction.

"Ay, my lady, do go; do not wait for my lame leg to get well. The way is
rough and fatiguing, but by all means let Lady Laura go and do what she
can for those suffering little ones."

Laura did not want to wait a moment; she begged the Motherkin to start
at once, that very night; but the old lady insisted upon the night's
rest.

"But I cannot sleep, dear Motherkin-- I am sure I cannot sleep; pray let
us go. I am so afraid they are suffering dreadfully."

"We have to arrange matters a little, Laura," urged the Motherkin,
pleased at the child's earnest desire to aid the little unfortunates. "I
will go as early as we can to-morrow; and now let me see you show
prudence as well as zeal by sleeping soundly, and so fitting yourself
for the fatigue of a journey. Come, dear, to bed, and hope that the good
angels are caring for the little ones we are so sorry for."

Grim, too, assured Laura that this plan was best, and that he felt
confident the woodsman would do all he could until they reached the
little sufferers.

So Laura went to bed, her heart stirred with very new emotions, that
were both happy and painful; the desire to do good, the hope that she
might relieve the poor little objects of her pity, made her glad, while
the thought of their pain and poverty caused her real sorrow. Her bed no
longer seemed hard, nor her little room empty of any luxuries; and, as
she looked out at the stars glittering in the sky and listened to the
running of the brook, she prayed that she might be of use to the poor
children of the forest.

CHAPTER VI.

"I have decided not to go upon this journey, Laura," were the first
words the Motherkin spoke after she had given her a morning embrace, as
the child came briskly in haste to receive it, and hear the plans which
she supposed Grim and the Motherkin had made after she had gone to bed
the night previous.

"Oh, dear Motherkin," exclaimed Laura, "how can you forget those poor
little suffe