one there but Lizzie in
her chair at the window, looking lonely and forlorn.

'How do you do? My name is Patty, and I live over there, and I've come
to play with you,' said one child in a friendly tone.

'How do you do? My name is Lizzie, and I'm very glad to see you. What a
lovely doll!' returned the other child gratefully; and then the ceremony
of introduction was over, and they began to play as if they had known
each other for ever so long.

To poor Lizzie it seemed as if a little fairy had suddenly appeared to
brighten the dismal room with flowers and smiles and pretty things;
while Patty felt her pity and good-will increase as she saw Lizzie's
crippled feet, and watched her thin face brighten and glow with interest
and delight over book and doll and posy. 'It felt good,' as Patty said
afterwards; 'sort of warm and comfortable in my heart, and I liked it
ever so much.' She stayed an hour, making sunshine in a shady place, and
then ran home, wondering if Aunt Pen would find that out.

She found her sitting with her hands before her, and such a sad look in
her face that Patty ran to her, saying anxiously--

'What's the matter, aunty? Are you sick?'

'No dear; but I have sorrowful news for you. Come, sit in my lap and
let me tell you as gently as I can.'

'Mamma is dead!' Cried Patty with a look of terror in her rosy face.

'No, thank God! but the dear, new baby only stayed a week, and we shall
never see her in this world.'

With a cry of sorrow Patty threw herself into the arms outstretched to
her, and on Aunt Pen's loving bosom sobbed away the first bitterness of
her grief and disappointment.

'Oh, I wanted a little sister so much, and I was going to be so fond of
her, and was so glad she came, and now I can't see or have her even for
a day! I'm _so_ disappointed I don't think I _can_ bear it,' sobbed
Patty.

'Think of poor mamma, and bear it bravely for her sake,' whispered Aunt
Pen, wiping away her own and Patty's tears.

'Oh, dear me! there's the pretty quilt I was going to make for baby, and
now it isn't any use, and I can't bear to finish it;' and Patty broke
out afresh at the thought of so much love's labour lost.

'Mamma will love to see it, so I wouldn't give it up. Work is the best
cure for sorrow; and I think you never will be sorry you tried it. Let
us put a bright bit of submission with this dark trouble, and work both
into your little life as patiently as we can, deary.'

Patty put up h