the flowers do, and thrived on it.

But there was one objection to this out-of-doors life: Susy did not love
to stay in the house. Ainu days and evenings, to be sure, she made
herself very happy with reading, for she loved to read, particularly
fairy books, and Rollo's Travels.

But now, just as she had learned to skate on the basin with other little
girls and young ladies, and could drive Wings anywhere and everywhere
she pleased, it was a sore trial to give up these amusements for the
sake of spending more hours with poor little Prudy. She was very
self-denying at first, but it grew to be an "old story." She found it
was not only pony and skates she must give up, but even her precious
reading, for Prudy was jealous of books, and did not like to have Susy
touch them. She thought Susy was lost to her when she opened a book, and
might as well not be in the house, for she never heard a word that
anybody said.

Now I know just what you will think: "O, I would have given up a great
deal more than ponies and books for _my_ dear little sister! I would
have told her stories, and never have complained that my 'tongue ached.'
It would not have wearied me to do anything and everything for such a
patient sufferer as little Prudy!"

But now I shall be obliged to confess one thing, which I would have
gladly concealed.

Prudy was not always patient. Some sweet little children become almost
like the angels when sickness is laid upon them; but Prudy had been such
a healthy, active child, that the change to perfect quiet was