is
a blessing. What countless thousands would, but for daily care, be
unutterably miserable. And yet we are ever trying to throw off care;
to rise into positions where we will be free from action or duty.

The voice of a child is now heard. It is crying.

"Dear little Aggy! What can ail her?" says the mother, tenderly. And
she inclines an ear, listening earnestly. The crying continues.

"Poor child! Something is wrong with her. Won't you open the door a
moment?"

The door is opened, and the sick mother calls the name of "Aggy" two
or three times. But her voice too feeble to reach the distant
apartment.

We second the mother's wishes, and go for the grieving little one.

"Mother wants Aggy."

What magic words! The crying has ceased instantly, and rainbow
smiles are seen through falling tears.

"Dear little dove! What has troubled it?" How tender and soothing
and full of love is the voice that utters these words! We lift Aggy
upon the bed. A moment, and her fresh warm cheek is close to the
pale face of her mother; while her hand is nestling in her bosom.

The smile that plays so beautifully over the invalid's face has
already answered the question we were about to ask--"Will not the
child disturb you?" But our face has betrayed our thoughts, and she
says--

"I can't bear to have Aggy away from me. She rarely annoys me. A
dear, good child--yet only a child, for whom only a mother can think
wisely. She rarely leaves my room that she doesn't get into some
trouble; but my presence quickly restores the sunshine."

The bell rings. There is a murmur of voices below; and now light
feet come tripping up the stairs. The door opens and two little
girls enter, just from school. Does the sick mother put up her hand
to enjoin silence? Does she repel them,--by look or word? Oh no.

"Well, Mary--well, Anna?" she says, kindly. They bend over and kiss
her gently and lovingly; then speak modestly to the visitor.

"How do you feel, mother?" asks the oldest of the two girls. "Does
your head ache?"

"Not now, dear. It ached a little while ago; but it is better now."

"What made it ache, mother?"

"Something troubled Aggy, and her crying sent a pain through my
temples. But it went away with the clouds that passed from her
darling little face."

"Why, she's asleep, mother!" exclaimed Anna.

"So she is. Dear little lamb! Asleep with a tear on her cheek. Turn
her crib around, love, so that I can lay her in it."

"No, you