rries."

Nora shook her head. "I should not enjoy it."

Emma did not know what to make of this, for she could think of nothing
more delightful, but immediately she bethought herself.

"Oh, of course you don't know how pleasant it is, because you don't have
such flowers where you live, and strawberries don't grow wild there; but
you will enjoy going out to pick them; you can't help it, it seems as if
you could never pick enough; it's such fun that you hate to have it time
to go home."

"Yes, I always think it must be beautiful to be out-of-doors," said Nora
thoughtfully. "But when I go it tires me terribly, and there's not a
bit of fun when I'm all tired out."

Emma looked at her companion as puzzled as if she were speaking in a
foreign tongue. "Tired" was a word unknown to Emma's vocabulary. Her
greatest sorrow when evening came, was that the day was done and she
must go to bed. No day was long enough to tire her nimble feet, and her
only regret was that she ever had to stop walking and running and
climbing. She stared at Nora a moment, not knowing what to say, and then
the very face at which she was gazing put a thought into her head, and
she said cheerfully:--

"I see now what you mean, but that is only because you are not strong
and well; pretty soon you will be well, and then you will feel very
differently; you will be like me, and I am never tired."

Nora shook her head. "I shall never be like you. I was always so,
always tired. I can't bear even to think about running; the very thought
tires me. I shall never enjoy it."

Emma began to feel very much worried.

"Oh, but there must be something that you enjoy doing; you must have
something to think about at night that you are going to do the next day;
some plan, some game, some fun or other! Oh, my father will make you
well and strong, and you must believe that he will, or else you won't be
happy and will grow worse and worse."

"I do have something that I love to think about and to look forward to.
When I see other children jumping and running easily, as you did when
you came up the hill just now, I think how much more beautiful it is in
heaven than it is here; and how I shall not be sick or tired there, but
can run about as much as I please among the beautiful flowers that grow
there; roses and lilies that never fade. Sha'n't you be glad to go to
heaven?"

Emma was nonplussed. She knew that it was beautiful in heaven, to be
sure; but she did not want