"The Lord Jesus said that when we go to see the sick it is as if we visited Him. Wouldn't you care to go for love of Him, Lisita?" "Well, we'll talk about that tomorrow," I answered, not daring to refuse on such grounds, and not caring to promise anything either. Teresa gave her permission, and promised herself to visit the sick one at the very first opportunity. Paula wrote exactly half of my fifty lines, and in order to do so she sacrificed her playtime that afternoon because she wrote so slowly. I performed my twenty-five without further murmuring, and, exacting a promise from Paula that she would go in first, I decided to accompany my cousin on her visit to the teacher. "Take this," Teresa said to us at the last moment. "It's just a little chocolate for the sick one, for there is nothing better to fortify her strength." "Oh, many thanks," said Paula. "You think of everything. By the way I've got four cents; what do you think we could buy with them?" Teresa reflected a minute. "Get some oranges, and see that they are good and ripe. Don't stay late, for the days are getting short, and it gets terribly cold when the sun goes down." Paula herself suddenly became very timid as we entered the Rue Blanche and asked a young girl where Mlle. Virtud lived. "Ah, you are looking for Mademoiselle," said a childish voice. "It's you, Victoria," Paula cried, "I'm so glad to find you here. Yes, we are looking for Mlle. Virtud." "Come along, then," said Victoria as she blew on her hands that were purple with the cold, "I'll take you to her door." She took us up four flights of stairs when at last we came to Mlle Virtud's apartment. "Here you are," said our little guide, and downstairs she went. I started to follow her on down. "Oh, Lisita," cried Paula; "remember your promise." "Well, why don't you knock?" I said, rather wickedly, as I saw that Paula was having trouble to muster up her courage. "I don't know what's the matter with me; I can't seem to do it." In a sudden spirit of mischief I suddenly ran to the door and gave it three tremendous knocks, and then ran into the far comer of the hall. "Oh, Lisita, how could you," cried poor dismayed Paula. Pretty soon we heard someone coming slowly to the door, but as if he were dragging something behind him with each step, and then the door opened noiselessly, and there stood a forlorn twisted little figure, a lad of about ten years. As we looked at his face with its halo of golden hair we forgot all about his deformities. "Have you come to see my sister?" he said. "Yes," said Paula, "that is, we have come to see Mademoiselle Virtud." "She is very, very sick," he said, and we saw that it was with difficulty that he restrained his tears. As he opened the door a bit wider to let us in, we saw that a black shawl had been placed over the only window in the room, so that it was extremely difficult after the door was closed for our unaccustomed eyes to see anything in the room.