Mrs. Ried.

Sadie hovered around the pale, sad-faced woman while she ate.

"Are you _truly_ better, mother? I've been worried half to pieces
about you all day."

"O, yes; I'm better. Ester, you look dreadfully tired. Have you much
more to do?"

"Only to trim the lamps, and make three beds that I had not time for
this morning, and get things ready for breakfast, and finish Sadie's
dress."

"Can't Maggie do any of these things?"

"Maggie is ironing."

Mrs. Ried sighed. "It is a good thing that I don't have the sick
headache very often," she said sadly; "or you would soon wear yourself
out. Sadie, are you going to the lyceum tonight?"

"Yes, ma'am. Your worthy daughter has the honor of being editress, you
know, to-night. Ester, can't you go down? Never mind that dress; let
it go to Guinea."

"You wouldn't think so by to-morrow evening," Ester said, shortly.
"No, I can't go."

The work was all done at last, and Ester betook herself to her room.