But when the door closed upon her visitor, and Emmie crept softly back into the room, her fortitude suddenly gave way. "Come to me, Emmie; come here, my darling," and as the child obeyed her wonderingly, she held out her arms with a sudden sob. "You are not ill, are you, Emmie? What do they mean by making me so unhappy? They say you are thin and weak; but there is nothing the matter, is there?" "I don't know," faltered the child, resting her fair head on her sister's shoulder. "I think I am only tired, Queenie. Ought people to be so very, very tired, and to have their bones always aching?" "That is because you are not strong, my precious." But somehow, as Queenie uttered the words, the conviction seized on her that Dora was right, and the child was certainly thinner and lighter; and such an intolerable feeling of agony came over her at the thought that she could not bear it. "Oh, my darling, forgive me!" she sobbed, kissing the little pale face passionately. "Forgive you! What do you mean? What makes you cry so bitterly, Queen?" "Forgive me. I was too wrapped up in myself to notice. I never meant to neglect you, Emmie, never. What does my happiness or unhappiness matter if I can only keep you with me, my blessing?" "Shall you want to keep me if I get too dreadfully tired?" she asked, languidly. "Don't cry any more, Queen, I will stop just as long as I can." But Queenie only shivered afresh and dried her eyes. "Sit by the fire, darling," she said, trying to return to her usual manner. "Patience shall give you your tea. I shall not be very long, Emmie." "Are you going out again?" in a disappointed tone. "The muffins are all ready, and I thought we should be so cosy this evening." "I shall not be long," repeated her sister, hastily. She knew she could not have swallowed food in her present state of suspense, and before Emmie could again remonstrate she had left the cottage, and was on the way to Juniper Lodge. She found Dr. Stewart in his surgery. She fancied he listened a little gravely to her account. "She has not come under my notice for the last six or seven weeks," he said, as he prepared, at Queenie's urgent request, to accompany her. "In my opinion she has always been a delicate child. Such an illness as you have described may leave its effects for years." As they entered the parlor they found Emmie stretched on the rug as usual, and this time Queenie's heart sank within her at the sight. "Oh, Emmie, you are not tired again?" she said, almost impatiently, for she feared that this would impress Dr. Stewart unfavorably; but he apparently took no notice. He watched the child with keen attention as she roused herself somewhat feebly, and came towards them. "Has Queenie asked you to make me less tired?" she demanded gravely, fixing her blue eyes on his face. "Young creatures like you ought never to be tired," he answered cheerfully. "Do you often lie down in this fashion, eh?"