spot of sunlight it had found on the floor. There was a
smile on her thin face as she watched the little creature's merry
antics, and it was indeed wonderful to see how much amusement it was
able to find all by itself. First it chased its own tail round and
round so fast, that it made one giddy to look at it; then it pounced at
its own shadow, and darted back sideways in pretended fear; then it
rolled over on its back, and played with its own furry toes. It was a
week now since Dan had brought it home, forlorn and miserable, and it
had quite forgotten its troubles, and was happy all day long. Even when
there was not much for dinner--and that did happen sometimes, in spite
of Becky's care--it always purred its little song of thankfulness, and
was ready to be pleased, for it had a meek and grateful nature.

Dan, who was sitting at the foot of Becky's couch, with his feet
stretched out in front of him, as though he were very tired, looked up
as his sister spoke.

"What luck?" he asked sleepily.

Becky turned her dark eyes upon him.

"I'm sorry I waked you," she said. "I meant, because you brought the
kit home the same night father wasn't turned off."

Dan nodded seriously.

"It's all been better since," went on Becky. "Father brings his money
home, and mother don't worry, and we have dinner every day, and I do
think my back don't go all on aching so bad as it did."

"If you was to get quite well, it'd be luckier still," said Dan.

"P'r'aps I shall," said Becky wistfully. "I dreamed ever so beautiful
last night, that you and me was dancing to the organ in the street--the
one as plays `Pop goes the Weasel.' When I woke, I cried a bit, because
it wasn't true. Do you think as it'll ever come true?"

"Just about," said Dan, rousing himself to speak with confidence.

"If so be as it does," continued Becky, "it'll be along of what the
little gentleman at Fieldside did for father. If father hadn't kept his
place, I couldn't got well, because of paying the doctor and the
nourishing things."

"I think of that a deal too," said Dan; "it's all owin' to him."

"If there was ever anything we could do to please him," said Becky,
"wouldn't we be glad! He must be such a very kind little gentleman."

Dan shook his head decidedly.

"'Tain't likely," he said. "He belongs to rich folks, him and his
sister. They don't want nought from the like of us."

"Well, I'm sorry," said Becky, with a sigh. "I think over it