rather giddy, but full of eagerness, at her father's door.

It was open, as Celestina had said, and half shy now, Biddy peeped in.
He was lying on a couch between the fire and the window; it was a bright
spring-like morning--he had a book in his hand, but he did not seem to
be reading; he was quite still, his eyes were gazing out to the clear
blue sky, and the look in his face was very sweet. Then again came the
little cough. That was the signal. In rushed Biddy.

'Papa, dear papa,' she cried, as she half threw herself, half tumbled
upon him, for she felt giddy again with moving so fast. 'Dear papa, are
you getting better? Please don't die, dear papa, and I _will_ try to be
good. And oh, please forgive me, and don't say I as good as killed you.'

'My poor little Biddy,' said Mr. Vane, raising himself so as to see her,
and drawing her tenderly on to the couch beside him,--'my poor little
Biddy. So you've come to see me at last! And are you getting better,
dear?'

'Yes, yes, papa, but please tell me you're not going to die because of
me,' and Biddy began to cry, but gently, not in her old way.

Mr. Vane tried to speak, but his cough was troublesome.

'I think I'm a little better, dear,' he said, 'and, please God, I hope
to be better yet. And it will be a great help to me if I see you quite
well again, and trying to be of use to mamma, Biddy, and to Alie. You
can help to nurse me, you know.'

Biddy looked up. The very things Celestina had said!