"There's nowhere to go. And it would cost so much. Is Sissie—?" "I don't think she is well enough for the full journey; but in that case, it must be risked." Lettice became aware that Cecilia was not in the same state as when they had left home. Then she had stood about, and had even walked a short distance. Now she had to be lifted from the train to the carriage; and again at Paddington from the carriage to the train. She made no complaints, and scarcely spoke, but her face wore unmistakable signs of acute suffering. Nurse Valentine counted it very doubtful whether she would be able to reach Bristol that afternoon: and her busy brain revolved different schemes. "I can't leave that child alone to sink or swim. It wouldn't be Christian. I don't know when I have seen a face that appeals to one more. Miss Anderson, I am afraid, is in a bad way. They seem given over into my charge. I shall have to go on to Bristol, or else take them home with me . . . Which is best, I wonder? . . . She isn't fit for the journey. Well, I shall see presently." They drew near in time to Reading. Nurse Valentine knew this, from her acquaintance with the country; and Lettice seemed to guess it, intuitively. "Must you leave us now? What shall I do if Sissie gets worse?" Nurse Valentine moved away to bend over Cecilia. A few low words passed between them; and she returned to Lettice. "No, my dear, I am not going to forsake you. Your sister cannot travel so far as Bristol to-day. I shall take you both to my home." "Home with you?" Lettice's whole face changed, pallor vanished, and her eyes shone with delight! "Oh, how good, how good you are: I can never, never thank you." "Hush, don't let Miss Anderson hear; it is the only plan; but I have not told her yet. I wish we did not live so far out of Reading—nearly two miles—but it cannot be helped. I shall leave word with our doctor in passing, and a telegram must be sent to your uncle." "I can't think what makes you so kind to us." "Cannot you?" The train was slackening speed; but Nurse Valentine lingered a moment. "I have a dear Master, Lettice, and I think He is giving me this to do. My work is only to obey. The trouble! Oh, that is nothing. People cannot do anything worth doing without trouble; and always to be trying to save oneself is so contemptible. Trouble was the last thing our Lord ever thought about, when He was on earth; and it ought to be our last thought also." Lettice had the look of one gaining a glimpse into a fresh world. CHAPTER IV. PRUE AND BERTHA. "IT'S snowing still, father. Almost as hard as ever. Will Bertha come, do you think?" "Shouldn't wonder." "She told me not to mind, if anything did make her put off. She might be wanted a day or two longer, just at last. But it isn't Bertha's way to mind weather." "She wouldn't be a child of mine, if she did." "You don't mean to send and meet her?" "Cabs enough in Reading, if she comes."