he had indeed some thing to occupy her.

Laura was lost without her companion, but made fresh bouquets and sent
them in every morning to her, and was always ready at the end of the
long hall to wait upon Nannette, that she might not leave her charge a
moment. Lady Idleways sent for a physician, and his face looked grave
when he came from Kathie's bedside.

"What is it, mamma?" asked Laura, as, with her books and Fido, she sat
in the embrasure of the large hall window, waiting for the doctor's
decision.

"It is a low fever, my darling, and we must do something to cheer the
child and make her hopeful. I am going now to write to your papa, to see
if he can get permission for Kathie's father to return. Meanwhile we
will get their cottage in order, cleaned, and made comfortable with all
that they need, and then we will take the little wild bird back to its
nest. These woodland creatures cannot live away from their haunts. Do
you understand, my Laura?"

"Yes, mamma; but I am so sorry."

"So am I, dear child."

So it was decided. The letter was written, and a favorable answer came.
Day after day went by, and yet Kathie could only take a little soup and
a little wine, and Laura was allowed to go beneath her window and talk
to her a while. And Lady Idleways was very busy, driving out to the
forest every day with a donkey-cart laden with many useful goods, going
and returning with work-people, and coming home to bid Laura hope that
Kathie would soon be very well and happy again.

CHAPTER XII.

[Illustration: "SHE WAS NOW ALLOWED TO SIT BESIDE KATHIE AND READ A
LITTLE TO HER."]

At last Kathie was pronounced able to leave her room. The summer had
ripened into autumn, and the leaves, which had turned crisp and brown,
had fallen, making the branches bare. The air was sharp and frosty.
Great logs burned in the fireplaces, delighting Laura with their
cheerful blaze, and keeping her busy in the twilight finding pictures in
the flames. She was now allowed to sit beside Kathie and read a little
to her, a few verses, a hymn, or a Bible story. And to Laura was given
the pleasant task of telling Kathie she was soon to see her father. It
happened this way. Kathie had been carried out for fresh air in
Nannette's arms, and was resting on cushions; it was the middle of the
day, and the sunlight streamed through the broad windows. Laura was
roasting chestnuts, and as she drew them from the ashes she said,

"Kathie, if I were