the Rectory as often as she could; sometimes she
sat with Biddy for an hour or more at a time, but Biddy scarcely spoke,
and Celestina's mother was both sorry for her and anxious about her.

'There seems no one able to pay much attention to her,' she said one
evening at home; 'poor Mrs. Vane is so taken up, and no wonder, with her
husband, and Rosalys is as busy as she can be, helping and seeing to
everything.'

There came a little voice from the other side of the table: the
Fairchilds were at tea.

'Mother, do you think I might go to see her?' it asked. 'I'd be very
quiet.'

'I'll ask,' Mrs. Fairchild answered. 'You might come with me to-morrow
and wait outside while I find out if it would do.'

Mrs. Vane had no objection--Biddy was really not ill now, she said. It
was just one of her queer ways to lie still and refuse to get up.
Perhaps Celestina would make her ashamed of herself. So Celestina was
brought upstairs, and tapped gently at the door.

'Come in,' said Bridget, though without looking up. But when the neat
little figure came forward, close to the bedside, and she glanced round
and saw who it was, a smile came over her face--the first for a long
time.

'Celestina!' she exclaimed joyfully. But then the smile died away again,
and a red flush covered her cheeks and forehead. 'No,' she said, turning
on the other side, 'I don't want to see you. Go away.'

Celestina felt very distressed. But she wanted to do Biddy good, so she
put back her own feelings.

'Please don't say that,' she said. 'I'll stay as quiet as anything, but
please don't send me away. I've been so wanting to see you.'

There was a slight turning towards her on this, and at last Biddy lifted
her head from the pillow a little.

'Did you truly want to see me?' she said.

'Of course I did. I've been very sorry about you being ill,' Celestina
replied.

Biddy did not speak. Then Celestina heard a faint sound, and going up a
little closer still, she saw that Biddy was crying.

'Dear Miss Biddy,' she whispered. Then a pair of hot little arms, not so
fat as they had been, were stretched out and thrown round her neck.

'Will you kiss me, Celestina?' whispered Bridget. 'Do you really love
me? If you do, you're the only one. I'm too naughty--I've been too
naughty. I've as good as killed papa--I know he's going to die. I heard
them saying the first night I'd as good as killed him, though I pretended
not to hear. And I've been trying to die mys