visitor, dear," replied Edith, bringing a
fragrant nosegay over to the bedside and laying it on the snowy pillow.
"Now don't ask me any questions, for I dare not tell. Only wait
patiently and you will see for yourself."

The child did not seem particularly charmed. "I hate visitors, Edith,"
she said, the sunshine dying out of her face, and the restless, weary
look stealing into her eyes; "they make my heart full of wicked,
rebellious thoughts when I see them coming into the room so well and
strong. I detest their long faces and sympathetic remarks. Ugh! I
suppose they mean to be kind, but when they speak I feel as if I hated
everything and everybody."

"I don't think you will tell me all that this afternoon," replied Edith
with a knowing smile. "It is always the unexpected that happens, and I
shall be very much surprised if you do not count this day as one of the
bright spots in your life.--Ah, there is the bell. Give me a kiss,
Win, and keep a pretty smile for the unwelcome visitor." So saying
Edith tripped away, and Winnie waited in gloomy silence the advent of
the hated guest. Why could people not leave her alone? Why did they
require to come and flaunt all their bright, strong health before her?
She wished none of their sympathy and condolences--only leave her alone
to her grief and misery.

These being her thoughts, it was a very cross, peevish face which met
Miss Latimer's gaze as she entered the sick chamber in company with
Mrs. Blake and confronted the little invalid.

"I have brought a friend to see you, dear," said the step-mother,
smiling down on the quiet figure with its weary, pain-stricken face.
"You will be pleased to welcome her, I know, and have so much to talk
about that my presence can be easily dispensed with for a little time."
As she spoke, Mrs. Blake smoothed the sick girl's brow lovingly, and
then withdrew, leaving the two friends together once more.

There was no need to ask, "Are you glad to see me, Winnie?" for the
great eyes, shining with a wonderfully joyous light, told the tale the
lips refused to utter. Forgetting her helplessness, the child
stretched out her arms and tried to rise, but sank back with a low cry
of pain, and those piteous words, "O Aunt Judith, come to me quickly,
for I cannot go to you."

Miss Latimer was greatly moved, and could do nothing at first but kiss
the little face once so fresh and sweet, now pinched and wan with
suffering.

"Dear child," she s