he same subdued tone, as she
took the offered hand, then stepped in and sat down in a chair the girl
hastened to set for her, "That is well; we must not wake her."

A long talk followed in which Elsie by her ready tact and sweet sympathy,
free from the slightest approach to patronage, drew from the girl the
story of their sorrows, privations and fears for the future.

Her mother had been gradually failing for some time, though she really did
not know what was the nature of the disease. For a while they had
contrived by their united efforts to make the two ends meet, but now that
all depended upon her, with her poor sight, it was no longer possible.

"How are your eyes affected?" asked Elsie.

"The sight is dim; I can scarcely see to set my stitches: I have great
difficulty in threading a needle: I always had. I could never read fine
print, never read through a long sentence without shutting my eyes for an
instant or looking off the book. It has always been an effort to see, and
now I am forced to use my eyes so constantly they grow worse and pain me
very much. At times a mist comes over them so that I cannot see at all
until I rest them a little. Indeed I often seem to be going blind and I'm
afraid I shall," she added, with a tremble in her tones, a tear rolling
down her cheek. But she hastily wiped it away.

"My poor child, I hope not," Elsie said, laying a hand softly on hers;
"there have been wonderful cures of diseased eyes. You must go to an
oculist."

"The expense would be far beyond our means."

"You must let me assume that. No, don't shake your head. I have abundant
means. The Lord has given me far more of this world's goods than I ought
to use for myself or my family and I know it is because he would have me
be his almoner."

The girl wept for joy and thankfulness.

"Oh, how kind you are!" she cried. "I believe the Lord sent you and that
my sight will be spared; for I have prayed so that it might;--that he
would send me help somehow. But mother, how can she do without me?"

"I will see that she has medical advice, nursing, everything she needs."

Sally tried to speak her thanks but tears and sobs came instead.

The sound woke Mrs. Gibson. "Elsie Dinsmore!" she cried in feeble but
excited tones, with difficulty raising herself to a sitting posture. "I
should have known you anywhere."

"I cannot say the same; you are much changed," Elsie said, going to the
bedside and taking the thin feverish hand i