o at once. Dickie wouldn't be
left out for anything."

By the time the Institute was reached they had become quite
confidential, and Pennie had almost forgotten her past sufferings in the
pleasure of finding a companion nearer her own age than Miss Unity. She
told Sabine all about her life at home, the ages of her brothers and
sisters, and their favourite games and pets.

She was indeed quite sorry when the missionary began his address, and
they were obliged to be silent and listen to him, for she would have
been more interested in continuing the conversation. It was, however,
so pleasant to have found a friend that other things did not seem to
matter so much; even when the dissolving views turned out to be dull in
subject though very dazzling in colour she bore the disappointment
calmly, and that evening she added in her diary, "By this we see that
things never turn out as we expect them to."

Miss Unity might have said the same. It was strange to remember how she
had dreaded Pennie's visits, for now it was almost equally dreadful to
think of her going home. Little by little something had sprung up in
Miss Unity's life which had been lying covered up and hidden from the
light for years. Pennie's unconscious touch had set it free to put
forth its green leaves and blossoms in the sunshine. How would it
flourish without her?

CHAPTER NINE.

DR. BUDGE.

We must now leave Pennie at Nearminster for a while and return to
Easney, where things had been quite put out of their usual order by the
arrival of the measles. The whole house was upset and nothing either in
nursery or school-room went on as usual, for everything had to give way
to the invalids.

There was always someone ill. First Dickie, who took it "very hard,"
Nurse said. Then just as she was getting better the baby sickened, and
before anxiety was over about her, Ambrose began to complain and shortly
took to his bed. Only Nancy and David showed no signs of it, and to
their great annoyance had to continue their lessons as usual, and share
in none of the privileges of being ill.

They were particularly jealous of Ambrose, who seemed to have all manner
of treats just now--mother reading aloud to him the sort of books he
liked best, cook making jellies for him, and Nurse constantly to be met
on the stairs carrying something very nice on a tray. Nancy and David
not only felt themselves to be of no importance at all, but if they made
the least no