birds singing from every bush and tree their morning trill of
flute-like melody; bees humming busily hither and thither; butterflies
flitting idly by or resting snugly in the heart of a flower; in short,
the world of nature all awake and joying with a pure, glad joy in the
golden summer sunshine.

Inside a darkened room, with softly-shaded blinds and peaceful hush
brooding over all, a girl--one might almost say a child--lying quietly
on a dainty bed with white, weary face and closed eyes, round which
dark lines of pain and suffering are plainly circled; and lastly, a
young lady nestling back in a low basket-chair and keeping tender watch
over the slight figure stretched so motionless before her. Suddenly
the heavy lids unclose, and a pair of tired eyes are raised, with a
sad, pathetic look, to the watcher's face.

"Is that you, Edith?" asks the weak voice in low, feeble tones; and the
young lady, bending down to press a kiss on the white brow, answers,--

"Yes, dear; and I am so glad you have enjoyed such a nice long sleep."

The child raised one thin, fragile hand, and pushing back the hair from
her damp forehead, spoke once more. "I was dreaming, Edith,--dreaming
the old days were back again, and that Dick and I were having such fun
in the oak parlour. Archie Trollope was there too, and we were chasing
each other round and round the room; but neither Dick nor Archie could
catch me, my feet seemed so nimble. I thought it was true, Edith, and
a great weight rolled from my heart; but oh"--and the low wail
accompanying the words pained the listener sorely--"I awoke and found
it was all a dream."

"My poor little Winnie!" replied the young lady, smoothing the pained
lines from the invalid's brow with soft, gentle touch. But the child
had not yet finished.

"Edith," she continued, a wild, haunting look of unrest stealing into
her eyes, "I am so tired lying here day after day. I want to be out in
the sunshine with the birds and the flowers. Tell me, when shall I be
able to walk in the sunlight once more?"

Edith's face was wet with tears. "Try to be patient, dear," she said
in a somewhat broken voice; "one does not recover very quickly from an
illness such as yours."

Winnie seemed dissatisfied. "You don't look me straight in the face
when you speak, Edith, and your voice has a little tremble in it.
Hush! hear how the birds are singing! They know I dearly love the
sunshine, and are calling me out into th