"Mamma," poor Ellen would say, "just lay your hand on my forehead, will you? it's so hot. Oh do, mamma!--where are you? Do put your hand on my forehead, won't you? Oh, do speak to me, why don't you, mamma? Oh, why don't she come to me?" Once when Ellen was uneasily calling in this fashion for her mother's hand, Miss Fortune softly laid her own upon the child's brow; but the quick sudden jerk of the head from under it told her how well Ellen knew the one from the other; and little as she cared for Ellen it was wormwood to her. Miss Fortune was not without offers of help during this sick time. Mrs. Van Brunt, and afterwards Mrs. Vawse, asked leave to come and nurse Ellen; but Miss Fortune declared it was more plague than profit to her, and she couldn't be bothered with having strangers about. Mrs. Van Brunt she suffered much against her will to come for a day or two; at the end of that Miss Fortune found means to get rid of her civilly. Mrs. Vawse she would not allow to stay an hour. The old lady got leave however to go up to the sick-room for a few minutes. Ellen, who was then in a high fever, informed her that her mother was downstairs, and her Aunt Fortune would not let her come up; she pleaded with tears that she might come, and entreated Mrs. Vawse to take her aunt away and send her mother. Mrs. Vawse tried to soothe her. Miss Fortune grew impatient. "What on earth's the use," said she, "of talking to a child that's out of her head? She can't hear reason; that's the way she gets into whenever the fever's on her. I have the pleasure of hearing that sort of thing all the time. Come away, Mrs. Vawse, and leave her; she can't be better any way than alone, and I am in the room every other thing; she's just as well quiet. Nobody knows," said Miss Fortune, on her way downstairs, "nobody knows the blessing of taking care of other people's children that ha'n't tried it. _I've_ tried it, to my heart's content." Mrs. Vawse sighed, but departed in silence.