“It made her very happy; but perhaps it was a mistake. It is difficult to judge in some cases. One of the lessons we have to learn in life is that there is an element of danger in intermeddling too much with the lives of others, unless we can do something permanent and substantial. We must not rush into responsibilities which are not given us to bear without due thought and consideration; but then we must not, on the other hand, hold back from any effort, lest we should not be quite successful.” “I rushed my attempt at benevolence!” cried Madge. “When Allumette was with us I was always teaching her and making much of her, and I was quick to promise another holiday, without thinking whether I could be as good as my word. And when I was down there so busy and happy I let it go out of my mind, and could not take any trouble over it. I always put it off till I could carry out my big scheme. Oh, Bertram, I feel as though I were not worthy to attempt anything!” “Cheer up, Madge! though perhaps that is a better frame of mind than to feel able to attempt anything and everything. There is a worthy old soul signalling to you over there. She seems to know you.” “It is Mrs. Gregg!” cried Madge eagerly; “she will tell us about little Allumette!” “Oh, thank God you have come, missie!” cried the woman, hastening up. “I was just saying to Gregg that I would go off to try to find you. Though he did say as fine folks was never at home this time of year. The poor lamb keeps calling and calling for Miss Madge, till it’s pitiful to hear. It don’t seem as though she could go quiet till she’s seen you again!” “Do you mean little Allumette?” cried Madge breathlessly. “Is she ill?” “I’m afeard she’s dying, miss. She’s had the fever on her a long while now, but she wouldn’t give way. She kept saying as Miss Madge was a-goin’ to send for her into the country, and she fought and fought against it, till she could fight no more. If she could only ha’ bin got away a week or two earlier--ah! that would ha’ made all the difference. But maybe the Lord knows best. ’Tis a hard world we live in. The tender lambs are best in His keeping maybe!” Madge felt as though a cold hand were clutching at her heart. “Can I see the child?” she asked in a low voice. “Yes, miss, for sure; the fever ain’t one of the catching kind--not to folks as don’t live down about here. The children get it, but grown-up folks take no harm from them. There’s abin a many little one die down here this summer, and the poor lambie up there will be the next!” They went into that wretched attic, and stood beside the child’s bed. She was the only sick one there now, the other children having either died or recovered.