work and her
books were all in Emily's room, where they were usually kept; the
library might have furnished amusement, but it was locked up. So the
garden was the only thing left for her, and there she spent the rest of
the morning; and many others, for Emily grew worse, and a fortnight
passed away without Gertrude's seeing her, or having any other
intimation regarding her health than Mrs. Ellis's occasional report to
Mr. Graham, who, as he saw the physician every day, and made frequent
visits to his daughter, did not require that particular information
which Gertrude was eager to obtain. Once or twice she had asked Mrs.
Ellis, who replied, "Don't bother me with questions! what do you know
about sickness?"

One afternoon Gertrude was sitting in a large summer-house at the end of
the garden; her own piece of ground, fragrant with mignonette and
verbena, was close by, and she was busily engaged in tying up some
little papers of seeds, when she was startled by hearing a step beside
her, and looking up, saw Dr. Jeremy, the family physician, entering the
building.

"Ah! what are you doing?" said the doctor, in a quick manner peculiar to
him. "Sorting seeds, eh?"

"Yes, sir," replied Gerty, blushing, as she saw the doctor's keen black
eyes scrutinising her face!

"Where have I seen you before?" asked he, in the same blunt way.

"At Mr. Flint's."

"Ah! True Flint's! I remember all about it. You're his girl! Nice girl,
too! And poor True, he's dead! Well, he's a loss to the community! So
this is the little nurse I used to see there. Bless me! how children do
grow!"

"Doctor Jeremy," asked Gertrude, in an earnest voice, "will you please
to tell me how Miss Emily is?"

"Emily! she an't very well just now."

"Do you think she'll die?"

"Die! No! What should she die for? I won't let her die, if you'll help
me to keep her alive. Why an't you in the house taking care of her?"

"I wish I might!" exclaimed Gertrude, starting up; "I wish I might!"

"What's to hinder?"

"Mrs. Ellis, sir; she won't let me in; she says Miss Emily doesn't want
anybody but her."

"She's nothing to say about it, or Emily either; it's my business, and I
want you. I'd rather have you to take care of my patients than all the
Mrs. Ellises in the world. She knows nothing about nursing; let her
stick to her cranberry-sauce and squash-pies. So, mind, to-morrow you're
to begin."

"O, thank you, doctor."

"Don't thank me yet; wait till you've t