before
she did.

Every moment, as she looked at the pretty collar, Susan's thoughts
became more and more jealous and unjust; she almost forgot her
companion's illness and what she had asked her to do, in the sense that
she herself had been hardly treated; she forgot, too, all her resolves
to behave more kindly. As she sat thus, the shadows grew deeper and
deeper in the attic until it became almost dark, and looking up, she
could only see one thing quite distinctly: it was the body of Sophia
Jane's doll. There it lay without a head--it would most likely never
have one now; it had a sad deserted look, and yet it reminded her as
nothing else would have done of her promise half an hour ago. She
seemed to see Sophia Jane's eager little face, to hear her whisper
"soon," and to feel the clasp of her weak fingers. Better feelings came
back, to her. She put her jealous thoughts aside with a struggle, and
as she wrapped up the collar again determined that to-morrow, if
possible, she would take it to Mademoiselle and tell her. It was Sophia
Jane's present.

Strange dreams visited Susan that night: sometimes she saw Gambetta's
comfortable furry face, which seemed to smile smugly at her; and then it
changed; and there was Sophia Jane frowning angrily, with terribly
bright eyes. The first thing she saw when she woke in the morning was
the collar, which she had put on a chair by her bedside, and she at once
remembered what she was to do that day. As she dressed herself she
could not help the wish returning strongly that it was to be her present
as well as Sophia Jane's. How well Gambetta would look in it, and how
delighted Mademoiselle would be! And this time nothing happened to
check those reflections, so that by the time she went down-stairs they
filled her mind entirely.

Aunt Hannah looked much more cheerful this morning. Sophia Jane had
slept quietly for some hours, and the fever was less; it was the first
improvement she had seen.

She was quite ready to consent when Susan asked if she might go to see
Mademoiselle.

"Certainly," she said; "Margaretta shall take you, and, if convenient to
Mademoiselle La Roche, you can stay there an hour or so. Perhaps she
will bring you back herself in the afternoon; if not, I will manage to
send Buskin."

So it was settled, and at twelve o'clock they set forth, the precious
parcel tucked under Susan's arm, and reminding her every moment of her
promise to Sophia Jane. Madem