By the end of the week she could not leave her little bed, and although nobody told her so she knew she never should leave it again. “Mamma,” she said one day, “I can’t see the swallows now. May my bed go into the day nursery? I like so much to look out of the window there. I like to watch the swallows, and I like to watch the sunsets.” The child’s wish was granted. The little low bed was moved into the west room, and as Winifred lay, she could watch her friends the swallows, and see the sun go down. Even when the days were wet, the evenings were generally bright, and the sky would grow gradually all crimson and gold, like a sea of glory, and great soft clouds of every colour of the rainbow would rise and float over the golden distance, and to the little grave eyes that watched the beautiful dying day, it seemed as if the gates of heaven opened night by night to take the great sun in, and she wondered dreamily if the floating clouds were the souls of the people who had died in the day, and who were finding their way home as the evening drew on. A great many strange thoughts and fancies passed through the child’s mind, as she lay day after day in her little bed, too weak and tired to talk, not always quite able to put her thoughts into words, but always able to think in a dreamy fashion of her own. She always knew the people who came in and out to look at her, kiss her, or wait upon her, and she had a smile for every one, even when she could not talk. She hardly knew how time passed. Sometimes she grew confused between day and night; but it always seemed as though mamma were in the room, whoever else shifted and changed, and Winifred always felt happiest holding her hand and listening to her voice. Little Violet came sometimes with hushed steps and tearful voice; and the boys stole in each morning and evening to kiss her and whisper loving words. One day Winnie roused herself to ask after the new pets, and ten minutes later Ronald appeared, carrying in his arms a scolding struggling guinea-hen; and the little girl laughed a weak little laugh to see how it pecked and kicked and called “go back!” “go back!” Dr. Howard came very often, as it seemed to the child, and papa was in the room almost as constantly as mamma, although he did not stay quite so long. The servants often stole in just to look at her, and Winnie had a smile for every one, and a word of greeting when she was well enough. “You will give them all something of mine by-and-by, when I am gone,” said the child to her mother one day. “And nursey must have as many as she wants--dear nursey, who has been so kind and good always! I’m afraid they would cry if I gave them away now.” “I will do as you wish, darling.” “Thank you; and you will take care of little Phil?” “Yes, dear.” “Thank you; I know you will do everything right.”