or of course Mr. Hamilton's growl was
meant for me, though it was addressed to Nathaniel. I heard him close the
door a moment afterwards, and Nathaniel crept back into the kitchen. I
woke rather tired the next day, and owned he was right, for I found my
duties somewhat irksome that morning. The feeling did not pass off, and
I actually discovered that I was dreading my visit to Phoebe, only of
course I scouted it as nonsense.

Miss Locke was out, and Kitty opened the door. Her demure little face
brightened when she saw me, and especially when I placed a large
brown-paper parcel in her arms, of that oblong shape dear to all
doll-loving children, and bade her take it into the kitchen.

'It is too dark and cold for you to play outside, Kitty,' I observed,
'so perhaps you will make the acquaintance of the blue-eyed baby I have
brought you; when Aunt Susan comes in, you can ask her for some pieces to
dress her in, for her paper robe is rather cold.'

Kitty's eyes grew wide with surprise and delight as she ran off with her
treasure; the baby-doll would be a playmate for the lonely child, and
solace those weary hours in the sick-room. I would rather have brought
her a kitten, but I felt instinctively that no animal would be tolerated
by the invalid.

It was somewhat dark when I entered the room, but one glance showed me
that my directions had been obeyed; the window was unshaded, and the
flowers were in their place.

Phoebe was lying watching the fire. I saw at once that she was in a
better mood. The few questions I put to her were answered quietly and
to the point, and there was no excitement or exaggeration in her manner.

I did not talk much. After a minute or two I sat down by the uncurtained
window and began to sing as usual. I commenced with a simple ballad, but
very soon my songs merged into hymns. It began to be a pleasure to me to
sing in that room. I had a strange feeling as though my voice were
keeping the evil spirits away. I thought of the shepherd-boy who played
before Saul and refreshed the king's tormented mind; and now and then an
unuttered prayer would rise to my lips that in this way I might be able
to comfort the sad soul that truly Satan had bound.

When my voice grew a little weary, I rose softly and took down the old
brown sampler, as I wished to replace it by a little picture I had
brought with me.

It was a sacred photograph of the Crucifixion, in a simple Oxford frame,
and had always been a gr