he floor of the
porch, Undine darted into the house, whence she returned in a moment,
carefully guiding Miss Graham's wheeled chair over the door-sill.

"Thank you, dear," Miss Graham said, kindly. "You are a very helpful
little girl, but when you are as accustomed to me and my chair as
Marjorie is, you will realize that I can manage very well. I heard your
voices, and thought I would come out here for a little while; it's so
much cooler than in the house."

"Won't you let me get your sewing, or your book, or something?" inquired
Undine, hovering solicitously over the invalid.

"No, thank you. I have been sewing all the afternoon; helping Mrs.
Graham with the new parlor curtains, and I'm going to be lazy for a
little while. I am afraid you dropped your own sewing, in your anxiety
to help me."

Undine blushed as she stooped to pick up the discarded towel.

"I'm afraid I'm very careless," she said apologetically; "Miss Brent
said I was, but I love to wait on people."

Miss Graham laughed, and she had such a merry, contagious laugh that she
was speedily joined by Marjorie, and even Undine herself.

"It is very pleasant to be waited on," she said, "and I am sure you
would make a capital nurse, Undine."

Undine looked pleased.

"I should like to be a nurse," she said. "I used to do lots of things
for Mr. Jackson, and he liked to have me. I wish I could wait on you,
because then I should feel that I was of some use, and that you weren't
just keeping me because you were sorry for me."

There was an unmistakable wistfulness in Undine's tone, and Miss Graham
was touched.

"My dear little girl," she said, "I am sure there are many ways in which
you can make yourself useful if you stay with us. You will soon learn to
be a great help to Mrs. Graham, and there will be many little things you
can do for me as well."

Marjorie gave her aunt a grateful glance, and Undine looked relieved.
At that moment the afternoon stillness was broken by a sound of distant
hoof-beats, and a clear tenor voice singing:

"'On the road to Mandalay,
Where the old flotilla lay.'"

"It's Jim coming with the mail," cried Marjorie joyfully; "I should know
his voice anywhere, and that's his favorite song. Oh, I wonder if there
will be an answer to Father's letter to Miss Brent. What's the matter,
Undine?"

For Undine, who was still standing by Miss Graham's chair, had suddenly
grown pale, and a strange, startled expressi