riginal," but that she did
not consider it a "Gospel" sermon, and preferred Mr Bevis; she doubted
also whether the lines quoted at the end were from a sacred writer. Now
these lines were just what Susan remembered best; they came into her
head again and again that afternoon while she was learning a hymn by
heart, and it was difficult not to mix the two up together. She was
also occupied with wondering whether Sophia Jane had attended to the
sermon, and would alter her mind about the half-crown. That was as
mysterious as ever, and Sophia Jane's pointed little face told nothing,
though Susan fancied that there was a softer look upon it now and then,
and an expression as of secret satisfaction.

CHAPTER FIVE.

"O what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!"

Susan's mind was very full of all this, and she was still watching her
companion with suspicion, when something happened which gave her
thoughts a new direction; for shortly after the strange minister had
preached at the chapel, Sophia Jane became very ill. She had been
ailing for some time, and had refused to join Susan in their usual
games; complaining of headache, but no one had taken much notice of
this; she was so often perverse and tiresome that it was natural to
think her only sulky when she sat about in corners with her head propped
on her hand and her eyes closed. But at last Aunt Hannah called in the
doctor, and after his visit she looked very grave, and talked in a low
voice to Buskin. Susan could not hear all she said, but she gathered
enough to know that the doctor thought Sophia Jane very ill, and that he
could not yet say what sort of illness it would be. She longed to ask
some questions about it, but she knew from the worried look on Aunt
Hannah's face that it would be better to wait, so she took Grace and
stole upstairs to Sophia Jane's door. She had been put to bed in a
small inner room opening out of Aunt Hannah's, which was rather apart
from the other bed-rooms, and had a little flight of stairs all to
itself. On these stairs Susan took up her post, and listened anxiously
to the sounds within; the door was a little open and she could hear her
aunt giving some orders to Buskin, who presently came hurriedly out,
nearly tumbling over her in her haste.

"Gracious me, miss! find some other place to sit in, do," she said
crossly clutching at the balusters.

"What's the matter with Sophia Jane?" asked Susan. But