"What an unconscionable time you've been upstairs, Elsie," Philip remarked in a bantering tone, coming to her side as she and her mother returned to the drawing-room. "I've been dying to speak to you, as the girls say." "All girls don't talk so, Phil." "You don't, I know. Would you like a gallop before breakfast to-morrow morning?" "Yes, indeed!" she answered, her eyes sparkling, "it's what I'm used to at home. Papa rides with us almost every morning." "Will I do for an escort?" "Oh, yes, if mamma consents. Gert will go too, won't she?" "No, she prefers her morning nap." Philip was a manly boy, the neighborhood a safe one, and the pony Elsie would ride, well-broken and not too spirited, so mamma's consent was readily given, with the proviso that they should not go before sunrise, or choose a lonely road. "By the way," she added, "I should like you to do an errand for me at Mrs. Gibson's." As Sally Gibson was sweeping the doorstep early the next morning, a couple of ponies dashed up to the gate, in whose riders she instantly recognized Elsie Travilla and Philip Ross. "Hallo!" shouted the latter, "this young lady has something for you." "Good-morning," Elsie said, reaching out a little gloved hand, as the girl drew near, "mamma bade me bring you this note, and ask how your mother is to-day." "A little better, thank you; it has done her a world of good to--to have her mind so relieved, and the doctor's medicine seems to have helped her too. How very, very kind Mrs. Travilla is," she added, with tears in her eyes, "and Mrs. Ross. Won't you come in?" "Not this morning, thank you," and away they galloped. Sally looking after them with admiring eyes, and a murmured exclamation, "How pretty and sweet she is!" It was not an envious sigh that accompanied the words, but born of mingled emotions,--the half-formed thought, "Shall I ever know such pleasures. Alas, they are not for me!" quickly succeeded by another,--"Ah, that sweet child cannot live to maturity, and be always as happy and free from care, as now." Her mother's shrill voice recalled her to herself, "Why do you stand there? What's that they gave you?" "A note, mother. It's directed to me." "Then make haste and read it." "Shall I not give you your breakfast first?" "No, no! do as I bid you." So the girl read the missive aloud without delay. It was from Mrs. Travilla, and stated that she had already written to engage a room for Mrs. Gibson in a cottage in a quiet little seaside town; a place recommended by Doctor Morton as very suitable; and that she would secure a competent nurse to go with her. "Why can't she send you, too, instead of hiring a stranger to go with me?" here interrupted Mrs. Gibson, angrily. "Wait, mother," said Sally in quivering tones, tears of joy and gratitude filling her eyes. She dashed them away and read on.