Then she told me she was the only girl, and she gave me the names and ages of her brothers, and all the birthdays. She seemed to think a deal of the birthdays. She talked next about the pets—the dogs and cats and birds—and she said she wasn't fond of lessons, only she tried to work hard because one ought. "For I want to be very very useful by-and-by to everybody," said she, "and of course I can't be that if I don't learn now. Don't you want to be useful?" says she, smiling up at me as if she'd known me always. "I suppose I do," I said, wondering that I hadn't wanted it more. "Only 'suppose,'" says she, opening her eyes wide. "Oh, but I want it a great deal more than only just supposing. I want it dreadfully. Don't you know those words—" and then she folded her hands, speaking soft— "don't you know those words about our Lord?—'He went about doing good.' That's what I want," says she. "I want to go about doing good, when I'm grown up. Mother says, if I mean to do it by-and-by, I've got to begin now, because there's so much in habit. Do you think I shall be able to do any good to you while you're here?" says she, not a bit conceited, but all in earnest. "Yes, Miss Kathleen," said I, for I did feel as if she was doing me good already. "But then I'm only a little girl," says she. "Mother will do you good, and father. I don't see how I can. I'm only a little girl, and you are grown up. Anyhow—" and she smiled— "anyhow, I can bring you a cup of tea, and a cup of tea does you good, I'm sure. It's put more colour into your face already, you know." It wasn't only the cup of tea, though. It was her own self. She had brought a sort of gleam of hope to me for the first time—even though that very day Walter Russell had turned from me. Mrs. Withers was just as kind as Miss Kathleen, though in a different manner. I liked her, but I never could forget the one time we had met before. Most like she didn't forget it neither. People don't forget that sort of thing, once it's come before them, and of course she must know I'd been deceiving them that day. She must have heard all about it since, which made her asking me to the house the more kind. I used to wonder sometimes if everything had been told, and I couldn't feel sure. Miss Kathleen took a wonderful fancy to me. She used to find me out wherever I was, and bring me a flower from her garden, or a book from her bookcase, or else she'd come and sit down for a chat, which I liked best of all. She seemed to have got it into her head that I was in trouble and that she had to comfort me, and she was always trying one way and another. "Mother is so busy," she'd say. "I do like to help her." But I think she got fond of me too. There wasn't any difficulties made by Mrs. Withers. She just let things go on so. But one day, all of a sudden, she took me by surprise, speaking when she and I were alone together. I couldn't think whatever was coming, but soon I understood.