o be so much in the sick-room. It is hardly a wholesome
atmosphere for a child.'

Miss Locke shook her head as though she endorsed this opinion.

'What am I to do?' she returned sorrowfully. 'Kitty is young, but she
has to bear our burdens. I spare her all I can; but when I am at my
dressmaking Phoebe cannot be left alone, and she has learned to be quiet
and handy, and can do all sorts of things for Phoebe. I know it is not
good for her living alone with us, but the Lord has ordered the child's
life as well as ours,' she finished reverently.

'We must see what can be done for Kitty,' was my answer. 'She can be
free to play while I am with your sister. I sent her out with her new
skipping-rope this evening. What brought her back so soon?'

'It was the singing,' returned Miss Locke, smiling. 'The street door
was just ajar, and Kitty crept in and curled herself up on the mat. It
sounded so beautiful, you see; for Kitty and I only hear singing at
church, and it is not often I can get there, with Phoebe wanting me;
so it did us both good, you may be sure of that.'

I could not but be pleased at this simple tribute of praise, but
something else struck me more, the unobtrusive goodness and self-denial
of Susan Locke. What a life hers must be! I hinted at this as gently as
I could.

'Ay, Phoebe has always been a care to me,' she sighed. 'She was never as
strong and hearty as other girls, and she wanted her own way, and fretted
when she could not get it. Father spoiled her, and mother gave in to her
more than she did to me; and when trouble came all along of Robert Owen,
and he used her cruel, just flinging her aside when he saw some one he
fancied more than Phoebe, and driving her mad with spite and jealousy,
then she let herself go, as it were. She was never religious, not to
speak of, all the time she kept company with Robert, so when her hopes
of him came to an end she had nothing to support her. It needs plenty of
faith to make us bear our troubles patiently.'

'And then her health failed.'

'Yes; and mother died, and father followed her within six months, and
Phoebe could not be with them, and she took on about that; she has had a
deal of trouble, and that is why I cannot find it in my heart to be hard
on her; she was that fond of Robert, though he was a worthless sort of
fellow, that, as the saying is, she worshipped the ground he walked on.
Ah, Phoebe was bonnie-looking then, though she was never over-strong,
an