le Jack. I'll tell you all of it by and by. There's
mother calling me; don't let her see you've been crying."

Mrs. Randall's eyes were open when Betty returned to her bedside.
Indeed, the little girl's first impression was that they were unusually
bright. There was a bright color in her cheeks too, but Mrs. Randall's
first words quickly dispelled Betty's hope that she was better.

"I'm afraid I shall not be able to get up this morning, Betty," she
said, and her voice had sunk to a hoarse whisper now; "I seem to have
lost all my strength, and there is such a terrible pain in my chest that
I can scarcely breathe."

"Oh, mother, what shall we do?" cried Betty in sudden consternation.
"Oughtn't you to have a doctor come to see you?"

Mrs. Randall shook her head decidedly.

"No, no," she said impatiently, "I can't afford to have a doctor; I will
lie here for a while, and perhaps I shall feel better. What day is it?"

"Thursday," said Betty, trying to control the sudden trembling of her
knees.

"That's too bad; Mrs. Flynn is always engaged on Thursdays, I know. I
thought she might be able to come in and help. Well, you'll have to
manage about breakfast as well as you can. I don't want anything myself,
but you must prepare some oatmeal, and boil some eggs for Jack and
yourself. Tell Jack he must stay in bed a little while longer, but that
just as soon as I can I will come and dress him."

That was the strangest morning Betty and Jack had ever spent. Never
before in their remembrance had their mother failed to be up and about
by seven o'clock. Even in those sad days, which Betty could just
remember, after their father's death, her own grief had never prevented
her from fulfilling the little household duties. Now she lay still, with
closed eyes, scarcely noticing what went on about her. Betty brought her
some tea, and she drank it thirstily, but refused to touch any food.
Once she roused herself sufficiently to say that she thought a mustard
plaster on her chest might ease the pain, but when Betty inquired
anxiously how to make one, she did not answer, and seemed to have
forgotten all about the matter.

Jack was very good and patient, but he was, if anything, more frightened
than Betty, and his white, drawn little face was pitiful to see. Betty
made him as tidy as she could, gave him his breakfast, and brought him
his new story book to read, but he shook his head mournfully.

"I don't want to read this morning," he s