were close beside the poor widow's low cottage window. Suddenly Nelly
stopped, and the laugh was hushed upon her bright lips. "Did you hear
it, Phil?" she said softly. "Hear what, Nell?" and Phil turned his black
eyes slowly round, as if he expected to see some fairy issue from the
grove of trees near by. "Why, Lucy Mason's cough. Mother says she will
not live to see the little snow-birds come again. Poor, dear Lucy!" The
great tear-drops rolled fast over Nelly's red cheeks, and fell like rain
upon her little hand. "Oh, Phil, I'll tell you what;--I'll give these
strawberries to Lucy. She used to love them dearly."

"Poh! poh! Nelly; what a silly girl! to give them away when Mrs. Preston
will give you such a deal of money for them!"

"But, Phil, Lucy's mother is poor; she can't buy them for her, and you
can't think how well Lucy loves them."

"Well, what if she does, and what if she is poor? can't her mother pick
them over in the fields, if she wants them so bad? I wouldn't give them
away."

"For shame, Phil Morton! To think of poor old Mrs. Mason's going over in
the fields to pick strawberries, leaving Lucy all alone, and so sick! I
shouldn't have thought it of you, Phil. No, indeed I shouldn't. Give me
the basket," said Nelly sorrowfully; "I shall give them to Lucy." Phil
silently handed the basket to her, and, without speaking, he followed
Nelly as she went round to the cottage door.

The tears ran silently down the poor widow's cheek as she led the
children to her sick child's room, for it touched her heart to see young
and thoughtless children so attentive to her poor Lucy. "And did you