“If I could get the dress,” she said, “I might possibly manage the rest,” and then, as she remembered the dainty fabric which Alice Warren had worn upon that memorable Christmas Eve, she started to her feet exclaiming, “That’s a good idea,” and ere her mother had time to question her she was on her way to the brown house in the hollow. For a few weeks past Mr. Warren had been seriously ill, and though Alice worked both early and late, she could not procure for him the little comforts which he needed and missed so much. Miss Elinor’s words, Do not neglect the blind man, had been forgotten, and many a weary night had the blind man’s daughter bent with aching head and tearful eyes over the piece of work which her increased cares had not permitted her to finish during the day. They were indeed drinking the bitter cup of poverty, and the sick man in his sleep was moaning sadly for wine, which he said would make him strong, when Adelaide Huntington entered the humble room. Glancing hurriedly at the scanty fire and empty wood-box, she thought: “They must be wretchedly poor—I dare say I can get it for almost nothing.” Then seating herself by Alice’s side, she told at once the object of her visit. She had never forgotten the beautiful lace dress which Alice had worn on the night of her party, and if there was one thing more than another which she coveted, it was that. In short she wished to know if Alice had it now, and if so, would she sell it, telling no one that it had ever belonged to her. At the first mention of the dress, Alice’s tears began to flow, for it was almost the only relic of the past which she possessed, and now, laying her head in Adelaide’s lap she sobbed out: “Oh, Adelaide, my mother bought it for me, and can I let it go?” “You know which you need the most, that or the money,” was Adelaide’s cold reply, while from his pillow the sick man faintly murmured: “Something to make me well.” This was enough, and wiping her tears away, Alice took from her trunk the dress, sighing deeply as she recalled the night when first and last she wore it. “I did not know it was so exquisitely beautiful,” was Adelaide’s mental comment as Alice shook out the soft, fleecy folds, but she did not say so. On the contrary she depreciated its value, saying, it had turned yellow, was rather old-fashioned, and a second-hand article at most, besides being quite too short for her in its present condition.