"You may draw the butter up out of the well, presently, when breakfast is quite ready." "And let it down again when the meal's over. Hello, Milly! is that you? how white and weak you look!" "Yes," she said, laying the last tomato in the dish, "I believe I'll have to lie down, as Aunt Wealthy bade me, till breakfast is ready." She tottered into the sitting-room and laid herself down on the lounge feeling so miserably weak and forlorn, so homesick for the old home where they had all enjoyed good health, that the tears would come in spite of every effort to restrain them. Breakfast was to be eaten here; the table was already set, neatly, too, with snowy cloth, shining silver and delicate china; but there was a look of discomfort about the room that vexed and tried her orderly soul; sand on the carpet, dust on the furniture, children's toys and a few articles of clothing scattered here and there--and she had no strength to rise and put it in order. "And no one else is much better able," she sighed to herself, "for Aunt Wealthy, mother and Zillah have all had chills within a week. Oh dear, this dreadful country! why did we ever come to it!" She heard her father's voice in the kitchen. "Here, Aunt Wealthy, is some steak; rather better than usual, I think; can we have a bit broiled for breakfast?" and Miss Stanhope's cheery tones in reply, "Yes, Stuart, I'll put it right on. I'm so glad you succeeded in getting some fresh meat. It's something of a rarity to us in these days, and I hope they'll all relish it, Marcia and Milly, especially; for they both need something to build up their strength." "Where are they? not able to be up?" His tone was anxious and concerned. Mildred did not catch the words of Miss Stanhope's reply, but the door opened, her father came to her side, stooped over her and kissed her pale cheek tenderly. "How are you, daughter? Don't be discouraged; we'll have you all right before long." "O father, I'm so out of heart," she sobbed, raising herself to put her arms round his neck and lay her head on his shoulder. "Oh, that won't do! you must be brave and hopeful," he said, stroking her hair. "You're not so very ill, my child; ague is not a dangerous disease." "It isn't that, but there's so much to be done and nobody to do it; we're all so poorly." "Don't fret about the work; we'll find some one to do it." "But they don't do it right. Viny never would spread up a bed straight or sweep or dust without leaving half the dirt behind her. And when she washed she faded the calicoes, shrank the flannels and made the white clothes a wretched color, though she tore them to pieces with hard rubbing and wringing." "Well, we'll have just to try not to mind these trifles or be too particular," he said, soothingly. "Ah, here comes the breakfast," as Miss Stanhope, Rupert, Zillah and Ada trooped in, each bearing a dish, "let me help you to the table." "I don't feel in the least hungry," she objected.