all to another
room, where on a couch near the window lay a lady.

'I've brought a little visitor to see you, Grace,' Nesta said in cheery
tones. 'This is the little girl I was telling you about the other day.'

'I can't bear children,' was the fretful reply; 'why do you bring her
here?'

But nevertheless she put the book down that she was reading, and
scanned the child from head to foot. Betty's grave face and earnest
scrutiny in return seemed to vex her more.

'How children stare! Do you think me a scarecrow, child? can't you
keep your eyes to yourself? What is your name?'

'Betty,' and the little girl drew to her friend's side rather shyly.

'Go and shake hands,' whispered Nesta.

Betty went up to the couch and held out her little hand. The invalid
took it, and the fair, flushed little face seemed to attract her.

'This is a perfect baby, Nesta; I thought you meant a much older child.
Well, little girl, haven't you a tongue in your head? Have you nothing
to say? It's the way of this house: here I lie from morning to night
without a soul to speak to, and if I do have a visitor it is half a
dozen words, and then off they go! I should like them to lie here and
suffer as I do--perhaps they might have a little more feeling for an
invalid if they did.'

'Are you going to die?' asked Betty timidly.

'Take her away!' gasped Miss Grace; 'don't bring a child to mock me;
and I suppose you will be devoting yourself to her the whole day, and I
shall have no one to read the paper to me.'

'No,' said Nesta brightly, 'I am going to let her play in the garden,
and then I shall come to you as usual. Come along, Betty; now you and
Prince can have a scamper.'

Out into the garden they went; but Betty rubbed her eyes in
bewilderment when she got there. Surely she had seen this garden
before! Was it in her dreams last night?

She tripped across the velvet lawn, answering Nesta's questions and
remarks rather absently, and then suddenly she turned round with a
beaming face. 'I've been here before,' she said; 'I had some lilies
from over there, and I came through that little door in the wall from
the wood. Do you know my lady? She looks like a queen. Does she live
with you?'

Nesta looked perfectly bewildered.

'You must be dreaming, Betty. How could you have come here? When did
you come?'

Betty told her of her adventure in the wood, and Nesta listened in
wonder.

'It must have been my mother, and yet