"Have you any pin-money left?" she asked eagerly. "Oh, yes; do you want some?" bringing out a little silk net purse with gold coins gleaming through its violet meshes. "Not for myself, Precious, though I spent all mine the day after papa gave it to me. But it was for charity, and you know mamma likes us to be kind to the poor." "I would like to help, too, Ethel. Tell me how to spend this." "You remember my old maid, Hetty Wilkins, that mamma dismissed so suddenly at Rosemont? Well, her lover deserted her, and she sank into ill-health, and is dying of a broken heart. She is very poor, and lives with an old grandmother that keeps a tobacco shop. She came to see me once since we returned here, and I gave her some money. In fact, I have been to see her twice, and all my pin-money goes on poor Hetty, for I do not like to see her suffer for the necessaries of life after the way she was turned out of her place on an unjust suspicion," and Ethel sighed deeply over poor Hetty's fate. "And you want me to give the poor girl some money? Oh, I will do it gladly. Tell me her address, and I will send it to her this morning," cried Precious, her sweet blue eyes glowing with sympathy. "Would you mind taking it to her yourself, Precious? Yesterday she sent me a little note begging me to come to her this morning--that she was so ill she could not live much longer. I promised to go, and would have gone only for this strange fainting spell. But if you would take my place----" "Oh, I will, I will! Poor, poor Hetty! I think mamma would be very sorry to know she had wronged her. Oh, Ethel, wouldn't it please Hetty for mamma to go with me?" "Oh, no, no! not for the world! The poor girl would not like it at all. And mamma is peculiar about some things. She would be angry if she knew I had befriended my poor maid; so, if you do this favor for me, it must be in secret." "But, Ethel, is it right to deceive our dear mamma?" "Have you never kept any secret from mamma?" demanded Ethel, with her keen eyes searching the lovely young face. Precious grew pale, then crimson, for though she had always made a confidante of her mother she knew that one page was folded down in her heart on which was written the story of a beautiful, hopeless love that no one must ever read. "Ah, your blush betrays you!" cried Ethel exultantly, and after a moment Precious answered: "There is one secret, Ethel, that you bade me keep, you know!" "Hush!" cried Ethel fearfully, and grew pale as death. "I did not mean to mention it, Ethel; but now tell me what you wish me to do. You are older than I, and you would not surely bid me do anything wrong!"