Bessy’s face, which had been red with hard running, faded to a dead white when she saw Mary; she looked so shocked and ill that Jem had not the heart to blame her, although the minute before she came in, he had been feeling very angry with her. Bessy stood quite still at the foot of Mary’s bed, never speaking a word, while the doctor examined her side and felt her pulse; only great round tears gathered in her eyes, and rolled down her cheeks, as she saw Mary quiver with pain. Jem followed the doctor downstairs. Then Bessy went and knelt beside Mary, and wiped away the tears that were trickling down the little face. “Is it very bad, Mary?” asked Bessy. “Oh yes! yes! if I speak, I shall scream.” Then Bessy covered her head in the bed-clothes and cried outright. “I was not cross, was I? I did not mean to be—but I hardly know what I am saying,” moaned out little Mary. “Please forgive me, Bessy, if I was cross.” “God forgive me!” said Bessy, very low. They were the first words she had spoken since she came home. But there could be no more talking between the sisters, for now the woman returned who had at first been assisting Mary. Presently Jem came to the door, and beckoned. Bessy rose up, and went with, him below. Jem looked very grave, yet not so sad as he had done before the doctor came. “He says she must go into the infirmary. He will see about getting her in.” “Oh, Jem! I did so want to nurse her myself!” said Bessy, imploringly. “It was all my own fault,” (she choked with crying); “and I thought I might do that for her, to make up.” “My dear Bessy,”—before he had seen Bessy, he had thought he could never call her “dear” again, but now he began—“My dear Bessy, we both want Mary to get better, don’t we? I am sure we do. And we want to take the best way of making her so, whatever that is; well, then, I think we must not be considering what we should like best just for ourselves, but what people, who know as well as doctors do, say is the right way. I can’t remember all that he said; but I’m clear that he told me, all wounds on the skin required more and better air to heal in than Mary could have here: and there the doctor will see her twice a day, if need be.” Bessy shook her head, but could not speak at first. At last she said, “Jem, I did so want to do something for her. No one could nurse her as I should.” Jem was silent. At last he took Bessy’s hand, for he wanted to say something to her that he was afraid might vex her, and yet that he thought he ought to say. “Bessy!” said he, “when mother went away, you planned to do all things right at home, and to make us all happy. I know you did. Now may I tell you how I think you went wrong? Don’t be angry, Bessy.” “I think I shall never have spirit enough in me to be angry again,” said Bessy, humbly and sadly.