as she would have felt if it had been a little
sick or wounded lamb in Herondale.

"What is the matter with it, poor little thing?" she asked the sister.

"The spine," replied the sister, bending tenderly over the cot and
taking the emaciated little paw in her comforting, ministering hand.

"Will it get well?" asked Ida, quite anxiously.

The sister shook her head.

"Lor' bless me!" said Ida's neighbour, pityingly. "It 'ud be almost
better if the pore little thing died!"

The sister looked up with mild surprise.

"Oh, yes; it can't live longer than three weeks," she said, as sadly as
if she had not seen a score of similar cases.

Ida lay down, her eyes filled with tears, her heart filled with awe and
wonder. Perhaps for the first time in her life she understood what
charity meant. Here was a waif of the slums, doomed to die in so many
weeks, and yet it was the object of the loving devotion of every nurse
in the ward, with every comfort and luxury which an age of civilisation
could supply, and the recipient of the enthusiastic attention of a
great surgeon whose name was famous throughout the world.

The woman in the next bed was crying too.

"It makes you think of 'eaven, don't it, miss," she said, with a sniff.
"If I was rich I'd leave all my money to a 'orspital; that I would!"

The speech suddenly reminded Ida of her own poverty, of which she had
not thought very much, for the need of money is not very keenly felt in
a hospital ward, where everything is "free, gratis, for nothing." The
time came when she was permitted to get up, and nothing could exceed
her amazement on finding herself so weak that her legs trembled under
her, and the walls and the floor seemed to rock and heave; but in a day
or two she was able to walk a little, and she at once begged permission
to help nurse the baby. It was against the rules, but it was very
difficult for anyone to resist Ida when she turned those great violet
eyes upon them imploringly: and much to her delight she was permitted
to hover about the cot and assist in an unofficial way. When the baby
was asleep, which was not particularly often, Ida was permitted to read
to some of the other patients; and, in fact, make herself generally
useful in an unobtrusive fashion.

This was all very well, but the day arrived when she was strong enough
to leave the hospital and once more face that world which has been
described as the best of all possible worlds, and no doubt is for