"I ordered it, Virgie," replied her mother, a little embarrassed. "I have so little strength, especially of a morning, I felt that, on an errand like this, I should want all my force, all my coolness. This heat is so unnerving." She smiled deprecatingly. "My poor little fly is the sprat to catch a whale," she laughed. Then impetuously she flung her arms about her daughter's neck. "Wish me luck! Oh, wish me luck!" she cried. Virginia's warm heart leapt at the cry. She embraced her mother with all the fervour she dare employ without crushing the delicate toilette. They went downstairs together, the lady stepped into the shabby fly with a look of disdainful fortitude, her sunshade was given her, and with a wave of the hand to the girl at the gate she started off upon her great mission. Virgie went slowly into the kitchen, sat down wearily, and poured out her tepid tea. After eating and drinking a few mouthfuls listlessly, she roused herself to prepare fresh tea for Pansy and to carry her breakfast upstairs. "Good morning, precious! How have you slept?" she cried cheerily, as she set down the tray, drew up the blind, and came to the bedside. Pansy lay there smiling, perfectly flat on her back, with Ermyntrude, the new doll, at her side. "Slept booful. Not one pain all night. But I'm fearfully hungry, Virgie!" "I don't wonder; I am dreadfully late! I had to get mother off, you see. She has just started," replied Virginia, trying to keep the sorrow out of her trembling voice. She stooped, touched a handle below the bed, and with incredible care and delicacy wound the little cripple up into a posture just enough tilted to enable her to feed herself. "Gone to see a gentleman she used to know before she knew dad," remarked Pansy, pondering. "He'll think she's every bit as pretty as she was then. Don't you think so?" "Yes, I am sure he must think so." "Oh, Virgie!"--after a long pause--"suppose he was to ask her again?" Her sister winced as this dark idea was thus frankly expressed in words. She had, however, been more or less prepared for it. "I don't think it very likely, Pansy," she replied slowly, "but if he did, and if mother thought it was her duty to say 'Yes,' we must not make it hard for her." "How could it be her duty to say 'Yes'?" demanded Pansy argumentatively. "She loved dad, and it would be beastly to have a step-father." "It would be beastlier still not have enough to eat," was the thought in Virgie's heart. She did not express it, however. The child knew nothing of the terrible state of things, and must not know unless it was inevitable. "We'll hope for the best, darling. He may not ask her," she softly told the child. "And now eat your breakfast, while I go and clear away downstairs." * * * * *