Sophie had spoken eagerly, and her face, her voice, her gestures, made the little story eloquent; but with the last words she clasped the letter to her bosom as if it well repaid her for all the sacrifices she had made. They might seem small to others, but she was sensitive and proud, anxious to be loved in the strange country, and fond of giving, so it cost her many tears to seem mean and thoughtless, to go poorly dressed, and be thought hardly of by those she wished to please. She did not like to tell of her own generosity, because it seemed like boasting; and she was not sure that it had been wise to give so much. Therefore, she waited to see if Tilly was worthy of the trust reposed in her; and she now found a balm for many wounds in the loving letter that came with the beautiful and unexpected gift. Di listened with hot cheeks, and when Sophie paused, she whispered regretfully,-- "Forgive me, I was wrong! I ’ll keep your gift all my life to remember you by, for you are the best and dearest girl I know." Then with a hasty kiss she ran away, carrying with great care the white shell on which Sophie had painted a dainty little picture of the mermaids waiting for the pretty boat that brought good fortune to poor Tilly, and this lesson to those who were hereafter her faithful friends. [Illustration: Chapter VII tailpiece] [Illustration: "Everything is quite clean; I am sure of that, for I washed the sheets and coverlet myself not long ago."--PAGE 207.] VIII. DOLLY’S BEDSTEAD. "Aunt Pen, where is Ariadne to sleep, please? I wanted to bring her cradle, but mamma said it would take up so much room I could not." And Alice looked about her for a resting-place for her dolly as anxiously as if Ariadne had been a live baby. "Can’t she lie on the sofa?" asked Aunt Pen, with that sad want of interest in such important matters which grown-up people so often show. "No, indeed! Some one would sit down on her, of course; and I won’t have my darling smashed. You would n’t like it yourself, aunty, and I ’m surprised at your proposing such a thing!" cried Alice, clasping her babe with a face full of maternal indignation. "I beg your pardon! I really forgot that danger. I ’m not so used to infants as you are, and that accounts for it. Now I think of it, there’s a little bedstead up garret, and you can have that. You will find it done up in a paper in the great blue chest where all our old toys are kept." Appeased by Aunt Pen’s apology, Alice trotted to the attic, found the bedstead, and came trotting back with a disappointed look on her face.