f. So they who
needed it so much enjoyed the good of her cheerfulness, and she suffered
the doubts and suspense and painful anxiety of an elder sister in
silence.

The winter passed slowly and sadly away to the two invalids, in spite of
the hopes that spring might do for them what those long winter months
failed to do. March came and passed, and April brought new cares and
duties. The coming of the young lambs first, and afterwards the care of
the calves and the dairy, gave Annie and Sarah full employment for a
time. Annie's cheeks, that had grown thin and pale during the winter's
confinement, began to get back their bright colour again.

From this time the care of her father devolved almost entirely on
Christie. Her aunt was, in one respect, better than she used to be.
She rarely suffered such intense pain as during the first part of the
winter; but every day was making it more apparent that she could never
hope to have full use of her limbs again. To an affliction like this,
Aunt Elsie could not look forward submissively. She came at last to
acknowledge, in words, that her trouble was sent by God, and that she
ought to submit, believing that out of the present trial He could bring
blessing. But in her heart she murmured bitterly. She could not bear
to think that her helplessness added greatly to the burden of care that
their father's illness had brought on these young girls. Yet her
murmuring and repining spirit added to their troubles more than her
helplessness did. Those days were very dreary to Aunt Elsie.

And on none of the family did the burden of her great unhappiness rest
so heavily as upon Christie. Not that she had very much to do for her.
After she was dressed by Annie and settled in her low chair for the day,
she asked and needed little further care. Indeed, in the first misery
of her helplessness she rather shrank from all assistance that was not
absolutely indispensable, and almost resented all attempts to add to her
comfort or relieve her pain. Christie was never quite sure that her
aunt was satisfied with anything that was done for her. She never
complained; but her acceptance of service seemed always under protest,
as though she would fain have refused it if she had had the power. Her
very sympathy with the child in her weariness was so expressed as to
seem like a reproach.

In her attendance upon her father it was very different. All that was
done for him was right; and his gentl