hair,
And the softest paths lie through the air.
Farewell, farewell to my lady fair!'"

By the time the song was finished, Benny was sleeping quietly, and the
nurse thanked Hildegarde for "getting him off so cleverly. He needed a
nap," she said; "and if he thinks we want him to go to sleep, he sets
all his little strength against it. He's getting better, the lamb!"

"What has been the matter?" asked Hildegarde.

"Pneumonia," was the reply. "He has come out of it very well, but I
dread the day when he must go home to a busy, careless mother and a
draughty cottage. He ought to have a couple of weeks in the country."

At this moment the head nurse--a tall, slender woman with a beautiful
face--came from an inner room, the door of which had been standing ajar.
She held out her hand to Hildegarde, and the girl saw that her eyes were
full of tears. "Thank you," she said, "for the song. Another little bird
has just flown away from earth, and he went smiling, when he heard you
sing. Have you any sweet little flowers, pink and white?"

The quick tears sprang to Hilda's eyes. She could not speak for a
moment, but she lifted some lovely sprays of blush rosebuds, which the
nurse took with a smile and a look of thanks. The girl's eyes followed
her; and before the door closed she caught a glimpse of a little still
form, and a cloud of fair curls, and a tiny waxen hand. Hildegarde
buried her face in her hands and sobbed; while Benny's gentle nurse
smoothed her hair, and spoke softly and soothingly. This was what she
had called a "frolic,"--this! She had laughed, and come away as if to
some gay party, and now a little child had died almost close beside her.
Hildegarde had never been so near death before. The world seemed very
dark to her, as she turned away, and followed Mrs. Murray into another
room, where the convalescent children were at play. Here, as she took
the remaining flowers from the box, little boys and girls came crowding
about her, some on crutches, some with slings and bandages, some only
pale and hollow-eyed; but all had a look of "getting well," and all were
eager for the flowers. The easiest thing seemed to be to sit down on
the floor; so down plumped Hildegarde, and down plumped the children
beside her. Looking into the little pallid faces, her heart grew
lighter, though even this was sad enough. But she smiled, and pelted the
children with bouquets; and then followed much feeble laughter, and
c