Star was too miserable to explain, as the good woman saw, and she did not press her with questions; but with nimble yet tender hands she removed her clothing, replacing it with her _robe de nuit_, and then wrapping her in a heavy blanket, she tucked her snugly into bed once more. She then went down below, where she prepared a steaming drink of some kind, with which she hastened back to her patient, and insisted that she should drink it—“every drop.” The poor child obeyed, feeling too wretched to offer any objections; and then saturating a napkin with camphor and water, Mrs. Blunt bound it about her aching head, and darkening the room, bade her go to sleep again as quickly as possible, for of course school was not to be thought of that day; and indeed Star had forgotten the existence of such an institution. The hot drink warmed and soothed her, while the kind attention of the woman comforted her; and exhausted nature asserting itself, she soon dropped into a profound slumber. It was late in the afternoon when she awoke again, and realized that she was much refreshed physically, although her burden of misery was still crushing down upon her heart. Mrs. Blunt found her as white and wan as she had been flushed and feverish, when she looked in upon her again just before dinner, and she could not understand the look of hopeless despair that lay in her usually bright and joyous eyes. “Whatever in the world is the matter with you, Miss Star?” she asked, anxiously. “It’ll be bad luck for me if you’re going to be sick, for since you came into the house, with your bright face and cheery ways, the days and months have grown shorter by half. Come, come, chicken, don’t look so downcast; it breaks my heart to see you so white and drooping.” “I shall be all right by to-morrow, Mrs. Blunt. I am better already, thanks to your kind care,” Star returned, sitting up in bed and trying to bring her shattered nerves into better order. “If you will please hand me my school dress,” she added, “I think I will get up and take a run down to the lodge. I have not seen Uncle Jacob since yesterday morning, and he will wonder what has become of me.” “Indeed, child, you mustn’t go out to-night, and as for Mr. Rosevelt, he knows all about you already. I sent word to him before noon that you wasn’t able to go to school, and he’s been up to the house twice since to inquire for you. He sets a store by you, Miss Star, and I believe it would break his heart if anything was to happen to you.” A wan little smile flitted over Star’s face. It was about the only ray of light or comfort that she had in her great darkness—this knowledge that there was one who did really love her, and to whom she also was almost a necessity.