She was thankful when Emmie at last woke up, to find herself at their journey's end. Emmie, whose imagination had been vividly aroused by the idea of the magnificence that awaited them, was rather disappointed by the quiet, old-fashioned hotel to which Dr. Stewart had recommended them. It was just the reverse of grand, she thought, but the sight of the bright, cheerful-looking room into which the weary travellers were ushered speedily reconciled her, and she was soon comfortably ensconced on the great couch, contentedly watching Queenie as she cut up her chicken. "Now, Emmie, you must eat that and then go to bed," said her sister decisively, as she carried the tempting tray to the sofa, and Emmie was far too weary and docile to resist. They were to spend two days in London, but the first few hours hung rather heavily on Queenie's hands. Emmie was fit for nothing but sleep, and could not rouse herself to take interest in anything, and Queenie did not care to leave her or to encounter the crowded streets alone. She spent the greater part of the day sitting idly at the window with her hands on her lap, watching the passers-by with vague, unseeing eyes, and living over every episode of their Hepshaw life. The next day was better, for Cathy came to them, and the sight of her bright face roused Queenie from her despondency. "What do you mean by misbehaving like this, Emmie," she said, as she knelt down by the sofa, and took the child in her arms. "Here you are getting ill again and making every one unhappy." "I couldn't help it, Cathy," returned the child earnestly. "Oh, how good it is to see your dear face again, and how nice you look in that black stuff gown; and do you always wear a funny little close bonnet like that?" "This is nurse Catherine's costume," replied Cathy, laughing and blushing and looking very handsome. "What do you think Mr. Logan would say to it? and oh, my dear Madam Dignity, how worn and pale you are!" "It is nothing, I am quite well. Tell me about yourself," returned Queenie, looking fondly at her old chum. "Do you still like your work? does it agree with you?" "My work is making a woman of me. Did you ever see me look better, Queen?" And indeed Queenie was driven to confess that she had never seen Cathy look more restful and satisfied. They had a long, quiet-toned conversation while Emmie dozed in the afternoon. Cathy did not talk much about Emmie. "She was delicate and needed the greatest care," that was all she would allow, but she was voluble on the subject of the loan, and almost overwhelmed her friend with her delighted gratitude.