Emma was very kind to her, and paid her several little attentions during the evening, but Julia preserved the same haughty demeanor she had at first assumed, and never spoke to her or noticed her in any way. When she had once conceived a prejudice, it was very strong, and that night, after retiring to her room, she wrote to her aunt Christine of this “last indignity put upon them,” and wished that she was emancipated from school like Alice, and could leave the home which seemed like home no longer. On the receipt of this letter Miss Rossiter wrote to her brother-in-law, saying she had heard of his kindness in giving Gertie Westbrooke a home until something could be done for her, and adding that she had in her mind a plan which would relieve him of the girl and benefit the child as well. She was wanting a little maid to be with her constantly, and Gertie would do nicely after a little training. “I believe your wife has some Quixotic idea of educating her,” she added, in conclusion, “and without giving my opinion in full with regard to elevating that class of people, I will say that if the girl comes to me I shall myself teach her an hour each day, which I consider all that is necessary, with what she already knows. I hope you will send her as soon as possible, for Alice is to stay with me through Lent so as to be near St. Alban’s, and between us we shall need an extra maid.” What effect this letter would have had upon the colonel had he received it under ordinary circumstances, I do not know. As it was, it remained unopened for many days, while in an agony of anxiety he watched his baby boy, who lay almost constantly in Gertie’s arms, its little hand holding fast to hers as if fearful of losing her. It was scarlet fever in its most malignant form, and at the very first alarm, Julia, who was afraid of disease in any form, fled to her own chamber, where, like a true niece of her aunt, she burned _tar_ and kept chloride of lime as a disinfectant, and never went near the room where her baby brother was dying. Even the wet-nurse shrank from the fever-smitten child, fearing for the safety of her own little nurseling. But Gertie knew no fear, and from the moment little Jamie opened his heavy eyes at the sound of her voice, and raised his hands to her with the shadow of a smile on his face, she stood by him day and night and held him at the very last upon her lap, hers the last voice which spoke words of endearment to him, and hers the last lips which touched his in life, for Edith was fainting in the adjoining room, and the colonel in his anxiety for her did not know the end had come till he saw Gertie fold the child to her breast, while amid a rain of tears she said: “Poor Jamie is in heaven now;” then she laid him gently back in his crib, and the colonel knew his boy was dead.