the holidays. A fortnight of these holidays had passed
away, and Emilie began to long for her quiet evenings, and to see dear
aunt Agnes again. She looked quite affectionately up to the little
sitting room window, where her geraniums stood, and even thought kindly
of Miss Webster herself, to whom it was not quite so easy to feel
genial. She entered the shop. The apprentice sate there at work, busily
trimming a fine rice straw bonnet for the lodger within. She looked up
joyously at Emilie's approach. She thought how often that kind German
face had been to her like a sunbeam on a dull path; how often her
musical voice had spoken words of counsel, and comfort, and sympathy,
to her in her hard life. How she had pressed her hand when she (the
apprentice) came home one night and told her, "My poor mother is dead,"
and how she had said, "We are both orphans now, Lucy. We can feel for
one another." How she had taught her by example, often, and by word
sometimes, not to answer again if any thing annoyed or irritated her,
and in short how much Lucy had missed the young lady only Lucy could
say.

Emilie inquired for her mistress, but the words were scarcely out of her
lips, than she said, "Oh, Miss, she's so bad! She has scalt her foot,
and is quite laid up, and the lodgers are very angry. They say they
don't get properly attended to and so they mean to go. Dear me, there is
such a commotion, but her foot is very had, poor thing, and I have to
mind the shop, or I would wait upon her more; and the girl is very
inattentive and saucy, so that I don't see what we are to do. Will you
go and see Miss Webster, Miss?"

Emilie cheerfully consented, leaving Edith with Lucy to learn straw
plaiting, if she liked, and to listen to her artless talk. Lucy had less
veneration for the name of Queen Victoria than for that of Schomberg.
Emilie was to her the very perfection of human nature, and accordingly
she sang her praises loud and long.

On the sofa, the very sofa for which M. Schomberg had so longed, lay
Miss Webster, the expression of her face manifesting the greatest pain.
The servant girl had just brought up her mistress's tea, a cold,
slopped, miserable looking mess. A slice of thick bread and butter, half
soaked in the spilled beverage, was on a plate, and that a dirty one;
and the tray which held the meal was offered to the poor sick woman so
carelessly, that the contents were nearly shot into her lap. It was easy
to see that love fo