At this moment the house-door was opened, and they heard footsteps and
voices in the passage-way.

"Come," said his aunt, "let us look out at the little sick girl who is
going away; then we will come back to the frog."

They went to the window and looked out. A sad expression came into the
good aunt's face as she saw the little girl lifted into the carriage.

"How sick and pale she looks, poor little thing! or, rather, poor
sorrowful mother!" she said, as her eyes fell on the face of the lady
who was at this moment pressing Mrs. Stein's hand, while tears were
running, unheeded, down her cheeks.

The carriage rolled away. Fred returned to his book; but he had no
chance to go on with the description of the frog, for his mother,
greatly excited over the sight of the suffering child and the anxious
mother, came to talk it over with her sister, with whom she consulted
about everything that took place in the family, so that the household
would have been as much at a loss without "aunty" as without father or
mother. Fred saw that this was not his opportunity; so, exacting a
promise from his aunt that she would give him a chance with his frog
just before bed-time, he took himself off.

Then Mrs. Stein told her sister all about her painful interview with
Mrs. Stanhope. The child, she said, was so pale and transparent-looking
that she seemed already to belong more to heaven than to earth; but the
mother would not believe it, and had eagerly explained, in a burst of
tears, that it was only the fatigue of the journey which made Nora look
so ill, and that she was sure that the mountain air would soon restore