"Miss Alice," said Ellen, almost fearfully, "_dear_ Miss Alice," and her own eyes filled fast again, "what is the matter? won't you tell me? Oh, don't do so! please don't!" "I will not," said Alice, lifting her head; "I am sorry I have troubled you, dear; I am sorry I could not help it." She kissed Ellen, who stood anxious and sorrowful by her side, and brushed away her tears. But Ellen saw she had been shedding a great many. "What is the matter, dear Miss Alice? what has happened to trouble you? won't you tell me?" Ellen was almost crying herself. Alice came back to the rocking-chair, and took Ellen in her arms again; but she did not answer her. Leaning her face against Ellen's forehead she remained silent. Ellen ventured to ask no more questions; but lifting her hand once or twice caressingly to Alice's face, she was distressed to find her cheek wet still. Alice spoke at last. "It isn't fair not to tell you what is the matter, dear Ellen, since I have let you see me sorrowing. It is nothing new, nor anything I would have otherwise if I could. It is only that I have had a mother once, and have lost her; and you brought back the old time so strongly, that I could not command myself." Ellen felt a hot tear drop upon her forehead, and again ventured to speak her sympathy only by silently stroking Alice's cheek. "It's all past now," said Alice; "it is all well. I would not have her back again. I shall go to her, I hope, by-and-by." "Oh no! you must stay with me," said Ellen, clasping both arms round her. There was a long silence, during which they remained locked in each other's arms. "Ellen dear," said Alice, at length, "we are both motherless, for the present at least--both of us almost alone; I think God has brought us together to be a comfort to each other. We will be sisters while He permits us to be so. Don't call me Miss Alice any more. You shall be my little sister and I will be your elder sister, and my home shall be your home as well." Ellen's arms were drawn very close round her companion at this, but she said nothing, and her face was laid in Alice's bosom. There was another very long pause. Then Alice spoke in a livelier tone. "Come, Ellen! look up; you and I have forgotten ourselves; it isn't good for sick people to get down in the dumps. Look up and let me see these pale cheeks. Don't you want something to eat?" "I don't know," said Ellen faintly. "What would you say to a cup of chicken broth?" "Oh, I should like it very much!" said Ellen, with new energy. "Margery made me some particularly nice, as she always does; and I took it into my head a little might not come amiss to you; so I resolved to stand the chance of Sharp's jolting it all over me, and I rode down with a little pail of it on my arm. Let me rake open these coals and you shall have some directly." "And did you come without being spattered?" said Ellen.