must be helped.

All this time any one coming in might have imagined that Emilie had been
the cause of the disaster, so affronted was Miss Webster's manner, and
so pettishly did she reject all her visitor's suggestions as
preposterous and impossible.

"Will you give up your walk to-night, Edith," said Emilie on her return
to the shop, "Poor Miss Webster is in such pain I cannot leave her, and
if you would run home and ask your papa to step in and see her, and say
she has scalt her foot badly, I would thank you very much."

Emilie spoke earnestly, so earnestly that Edith asked if she were grown
very fond of that "sour old maid all of a sudden."

"Very fond! No Edith; but it does not, or ought not to require us to be
very fond of people to do our duty to them."

"Well, I don't see what duty you owe to that mean creature, and I see no
reason why I should lose my walk again to-night. You treat people you
don't love better than those you do it seems; or else your professions
of loving me mean nothing. All day long you have been after Fred's
balloon, and now I suppose mean to be all night long after Miss
Webster's foot."

Emilie made no reply; she could only have reproached Edith for
selfishness and temper at least equal to Miss Webster's, but telling
Lucy she should soon return, hastened to Mr. Parker's house, followed by
Edith; he was soon at the patient's side, and as Emilie foretold, it was
a case more for an attentive nurse than a skilful doctor. He promised to