But he was very patient and good with them, and Ada Elizabeth was his right hand in everything. For the first time in her life she forgot her plain looks and her mother’s trials, and felt that she had been born to some purpose, and that purpose a good one. And then there came an awful day, when the mother’s illness was at the worst, when the two nurses stood one on each side of the bed and freely discussed her state, in utter indifference to the husband standing miserably by, with Gerty’s little sharp face peeping from behind him. "Eh, pore thing, I’m sure!" with a sniff and a sob, "it is ’ard at ’er age to go i’ this way--pore thing, it is ’ard. Which ring did you say Gerty was to ’ave, love?" bending down over the sick woman, who was just conscious enough to know that some one was speaking to her--"the keeper? Yes, love; I’ll see to it. And which is for Ada Elizabeth?" "Her breathing’s getting much harder," put in the woman on the other side; "it won’t be long now. T’ doctor said there was a chance with care, but I know better. I’ve seen so many, and if it’s the Lord’s will to take her, He’ll take her. We may do all we can, but it’s no use, for I’ve seen so many." Mr. Dicki’son gave a smothered groan, and turning sharply round went out of the room and down the narrow creaking stairs, with a great lump in his throat and a thick mist in front of his eyes. A fretful wail from little Mirry had fallen upon his ear, and he found her sobbing piteously, while Ada Elizabeth tried in vain to pacify her. She was more quiet when she found herself in his arms; and then he noticed, with a sudden and awful fear knocking at his heart, that there was something wrong with his right hand, Ada Elizabeth--that she looked fagged and white, and that there was a brilliancy in her dull grey eyes such as he had never seen there before. "Ada Elizabeth, what ails you?" he asked anxiously. [Illustration: "Ada Elizabeth, what ails you?" he asked anxiously.] "Nought, Father; I’m a bit tired, that’s all," she answered, pushing her heavy hair away from her forehead. "Mirry was awake all night nearly, and I couldn’t keep her quiet hardly." Mr. Dicki’son looked closely at Mirry; but though the child was evidently heavy and inclined to be fretful, there was not the same glitter in her eyes as there was in her sister’s. "Here, Gerty," he said, "nurse Mirry a bit. I want to go upstairs for a minute." "Can’t Ada Elizabeth have her?" asked Gerty, who always wanted to be in the sick-room, so that she might know the latest news of her mother and be to the front whoever came--for in those dark days, between the rector and the doctors and the neighbours who came in and out, there were a good many visitors to the little house. "Our Ada Elizabeth always keeps Mirry quiet better than I can, father."