ou will end in
liking Marian better than you like me--you will, because I am so
helpless! Oh, don't, don't, don't treat me like a child!"

I raised her head, and smoothed away the tangled hair that fell over
her face, and kissed her--my poor, faded flower! my lost, afflicted
sister! "You shall help us, Laura," I said, "you shall begin, my
darling, to-day."

She looked at me with a feverish eagerness, with a breathless interest,
that made me tremble for the new life of hope which I had called into
being by those few words.

I rose, and set her drawing materials in order, and placed them near
her again.

"You know that I work and get money by drawing," I said. "Now you have
taken such pains, now you are so much improved, you shall begin to work
and get money too. Try to finish this little sketch as nicely and
prettily as you can. When it is done I will take it away with me, and
the same person will buy it who buys all that I do. You shall keep
your own earnings in your own purse, and Marian shall come to you to
help us, as often as she comes to me. Think how useful you are going to
make yourself to both of us, and you will soon be as happy, Laura, as
the day is long."

Her face grew eager, and brightened into a smile. In the moment while
it lasted, in the moment when she again took up the pencils that had
been laid aside, she almost looked like the Laura of past days.

I had rightly interpreted the first signs of a new growth and strength
in her mind, unconsciously expressing themselves in the notice she had
taken of the occupations which filled her sister's life and mine.
Marian (when I told her what had passed) saw, as I saw, that she was
longing to assume her own little position of importance, to raise
herself in her own estimation and in ours--and, from that day, we
tenderly helped the new ambition which gave promise of the hopeful,
happier future, that might now not be far off. Her drawings, as she
finished them, or tried to finish them, were placed in my hands.
Marian took them from me and hid them carefully, and I set aside a
little weekly tribute from my earnings, to be offered to her as the
price paid by strangers for the poor, faint, valueless sketches, of
which I was the only purchaser. It was hard sometimes to maintain our
innocent deception, when she proudly brought out her purse to
contribute her share towards the expenses, and wondered with serious
interest, whether I or she had earned the mo