Bryant.

"How is she?" he asked, breathless with interest, of the girl who
answered his knock.

"She is better to-day. Are you the boy from Boston?"

"Yes. Do they think she will get well?"

"The doctor has more hope of her."

"I am very glad to hear it."

Harry was conducted into the house, and Mr. Bryant was informed of his
presence.

"I am glad you have come, Harry. Julia is much better to-day," said
her father, taking him by the hand. "She has frequently spoken of you
during her illness, and feels a very strong interest in your welfare."

"She was very good to me. I don't know what would have become of me if
she had not been a friend to me."

"That is the secret of her interest in you. We love those best whom we
serve most. She is asleep now; but you shall see her as soon as she
wakes. In the meantime you had better have your dinner."

Mr. Bryant looked very pale, and his eyes were reddened with weeping.
Harry saw how much he had suffered during the last fortnight; but it
seemed natural to him that he should suffer terribly at the thought of
losing one so beautiful and precious as the little angel.

He dined alone with Mr. Bryant, for Mrs. Bryant could not leave the
couch of the little sufferer. The fond father could speak of nothing
but Julia, and more than once the tears flooded his eyes, as he told
Harry how meek and patient she had been through the fever, how loving
she was, and how resigned even to leave her parents, and go to the
heavenly Parent, to dwell with Him forever.

Harry wept, too; and after dinner he almost feared to enter the
chamber, and behold the wreck which disease had made of this bright
and beautiful form. Removing the wrapper from the book he had
brought--a volume of sweet poems, entitled "Angel Songs"--he followed
Mr. Bryant into the sick girl's chamber.

"Ah, Harry, I am delighted to see you!" exclaimed she, in a whisper,
for her diseased throat rendered articulation difficult and painful.

"I am sorry to see you so sick, Julia," replied Harry, taking the
wasted hand she extended to him.

"I am better, Harry. I feel as though I should get well now."

"I hope you will."

"You don't know how much I have thought of you while I lay here; how I
wished you were my brother, and could come in every day and see me,"
she continued, with a faint smile.

"I wish I could."

"Now tell me how you get along in Boston."

"Very well; but your father says I must not talk much with yo