't, please don't let her come."

But it was too late. Mrs. Skinner's spare figure was already at the
door. She was dressed in her wedding gown and bonnet, and came to
Joy's bed, standing there like a grey spectre, her bonnet and face all
of the same dull grey as the gown.

Joy turned up her wistful eyes to the hard, deeply-lined face, and her
lips quivered.

"If you please," she said, "I am glad you will spare Bet, while Goody
is so busy."

But Mrs. Skinner did not speak--not a word. "I am getting better," Joy
continued; "at least the doctors say so; but--but I can't stand or walk
yet, so I am glad to have Bet."

Mrs. Skinner had all this time been scanning little Miss Joy's features
with a keen scrutiny. Then, after a few minutes, she jerked out:

"I hope you'll soon get about again; you are welcome to keep Bet;" and
then she turned, and her footfall on the stairs was heard less and less
distinct, till the sound ceased altogether.

"Your grandmother is--is not like other people," little Miss Joy
ventured to say. "I don't like her; but I beg your pardon, I ought not
to say so to you."

"And do you think _I_ like her?" Bet exclaimed vehemently. "At first I
thought I'd try, and I did try; but she was always so hard. She loves
Uncle Joe, I think, though she is angry with him for marrying Miss
Pinckney, and lately I have heard high words between them."

And now Bet took off her wedding bonnet, and sat down by Joy's side,
perfectly content that she was thought worthy to be her companion.

"You'll tell me if you want anything," she said. "And you won't mind
if I am stupid and blunder, will you?"

"No," Joy said faintly. "Have you got your work, or a book? Give me
my crochet. I like to try to do something, though lying flat it is
rather tiring."

Bet did as she was told, and then said humbly, "I shan't talk unless
you wish me to talk;" and the poor girl settled herself by the window
till a bell rang.

"That is for you to go down for my tea," Joy said. "It saves Susan's
legs, you know."

Bet was only too happy to be of use, and hurried down stairs at once
for the tray.

"Be careful now," Susan said; "and don't fall upstairs and break the
crockery. There's a cup for yourself, and Mrs. Harrison has sent over
a bit of wedding-cake. It's very black, and I don't like the looks of
the sugar; but I dare say it may eat better than it looks."

The day wore on to evening, and the row was quiet, when Joy