saying she should think Lucy would wish to rest for awhile before
dinner,--a proposal to which she was only too glad to accede, feeling
somewhat uncomfortable in the heavy travelling attire, which was such
a contrast to her cousins' elegant dresses.

Stella led the way to a room much larger and more handsomely furnished
than Lucy's old one at home, though it all looked so strange and
unfamiliar, that she wondered whether it would ever seem home to her.
Stella showed her all its conveniences and arrangements for her
comfort, and then observed, "But you're not to have it all to
yourself;" which Lucy heard with some disappointment, for she had been
always accustomed at home to have a room to herself, and hoped to have
one still.

"Amy's to sleep with you, and I think you'll like her. She's a good
little thing, though she's not a bit pretty; and she's named after
your mamma, you know, who was my Aunt Amy. It sounds odd, doesn't it?
Ada and I sleep together, because we get on best; and Sophy can't be
troubled with a child sleeping with her, especially as Amy is
delicate, and sometimes restless at night. Do you think you'll mind
having her?"

"Oh no!" said Lucy, somewhat relieved. "I always used to think I
should like to have a little sister of my own."

"Here she is, to speak for herself," said Stella, as the door opened,
and a fragile-looking little girl of about seven timidly peeped in.

"Come in, Amy, and be introduced."

The child stole quietly in, encouraged by Lucy's smile, and held out
to her a hand so thin and tiny, that she thought she had never felt
anything like it before. Amy had fair hair and a colourless
complexion; but when the soft grey eyes looked up wistfully at Lucy,
and a sweet smile lighted up the pale face, her cousin thought Stella
hardly justified in calling her "not a bit pretty."

"So you're my little cousin Amy?" said Lucy, kissing her. "And you're
going to sleep with me and be my little sister, are you not?"

Amy nodded. She evidently had not Stella's flow of language.

"Shall I help you to unpack, Lucy?" interposed her loquacious cousin,
"or would you rather lie down and rest awhile?"

Lucy preferred the latter. She wanted to be alone; and as she was very
tired with the fatigue and excitement of the journey and arrival, it
is scarcely to be wondered at that, when she was left alone, she found
relief in a hearty fit of crying. However, she soon remembered she
could do something better