ring creatures! My heart has ached for them even in my
dreams. All night I have been climbing rocks and wading brooks to get to
them, and now you tell me I cannot go. Oh, it is too, too hard!"

"Gently, gently, Lady Laura. I have not said _you_ could not go."

"Well, what do you mean, dear Motherkin? Is Grim to go?"

"No, Grim cannot go either," said the Motherkin, with a peculiar little
smile upon her face; and Grim twisted the scarlet tassel of his cap
mysteriously. Laura looked at one, then at the other: what did it mean?

"Are you sure you wish to befriend those children, Laura?" asked the old
lady.

Still more surprised, and not a little indignant, Laura answered,
quickly, "Indeed I do; I long to aid them."

"And you are willing to make some sacrifice, some unusual effort, to do
this?"

"Yes," again answered Laura, very quickly.

"Then, my child, you must go alone to their relief."

Laura's eyes opened very wide at this.

"How can I? I do not know the way."

"We will guide you, if you have resolution enough to undertake it."

Perplexed, Laura knew not what to say. How could she go alone? All sorts
of dangers rose before her--great gloomy forests to traverse, wild
beasts to meet, perhaps. She stood irresolute, her hand on the
Motherkin's shoulder.

The old lady took her hand in hers as she said, "I do not compel it,
Laura."

"But the poor little children--how can I be of service to them? I do not
know how."

"I will instruct you; I will aid you. All I ask is for you to go alone:
will you, or will you not?"

A vision of the little lonely hut and the suffering child and the
ministering sister rose before Laura.

"I will go," she said, no longer irresolute.

"The blessing of the poor be upon you!" said Grim, and the Motherkin
kissed her brow.

"Now, my child, have a good breakfast, and then I will tell you what you
are to do."

Laura obeyed very willingly, no longer disdaining good substantial food
or the simple manner of its preparation. After breakfast the Motherkin
opened her closets and chose a few garments for the poor children.
These, with a small flask of wine and some oat-cakes, were packed in a
basket which had leather straps attached to go over Laura's shoulder.
Then she was arrayed in a flannel costume that her kind mother had sent
with all her fineries. It was blue, with delicate traceries of silver,
silver buttons, and a silver belt, from which depended a pocket, a
fruit-knife, a