d Christmas plays, and added the following verse, for she
was considered a gifted rhymester at the game parties:--

"When it comes night,
We put out the light.
Some blow with a puff,
Some turn down and snuff;
But neat folks prefer
A nice extinguis_her_.
So here I send you back
One to put on Mr. Jack."

"Now, I call that regularly smart; not one of us could do it, and I just
wish Joe was here to see it. I want to send once more, something good
for tea; she hates gruel so;" and the last despatch which the Great
International Telegraph carried that day was a baked apple and a warm
muffin, with "J. M.'s best regards."

Chapter IV. Ward No. 2.

Things were not so gay in Ward No. 2, for Mrs. Pecq was very busy, and
Jill had nothing to amuse her but flying visits from the girls, and such
little plays as she could invent for herself in bed. Fortunately, she
had a lively fancy, and so got on pretty well, till keeping still grew
unbearable, and the active child ached in every limb to be up and out.
That, however, was impossible, for the least attempt to sit or stand
brought on the pain that took her breath away and made her glad to lie
flat again. The doctor spoke cheerfully, but looked sober, and Mrs. Pecq
began to fear that Janey was to be a cripple for life. She said nothing,
but Jill's quick eyes saw an added trouble in the always anxious face,
and it depressed her spirits, though she never guessed half the mischief
the fall had done.

The telegraph was a great comfort, and the two invalids kept up a lively
correspondence, not to say traffic in light articles, for the Great
International was the only aerial express in existence. But even this
amusement flagged after a time; neither had much to tell, and when the
daily health bulletins had been exchanged, messages gave out, and the
basket's travels grew more and more infrequent. Neither could read all
the time, games were soon used up, their mates were at school most of
the day, and after a week or two the poor children began to get pale and
fractious with the confinement, always so irksome to young people.

"I do believe the child will fret herself into a fever, mem, and I'm
clean distraught to know what to do for her. She never used to mind
trifles, but now she frets about the oddest things, and I can't change
them. This wall-paper is well enough, but she has taken a fancy that the
spots on it look like spiders, and it makes her nervous. I'v