"I can't help thinking of Mrs. Condy's little Willie," said Ellen,
after a pause. "Dear little fellow! How much they must all feel his
loss."

"He is better off, though," remarked the sister; but even that idea
could not keep her eyes from glistening. The thought of death always
referred itself to her own near approach to the thick shadows and
the dark valley.

"Yes, he is with the angels," was the brief response of Ellen.

Just at that moment the door opened, and Mrs. Condy's chambermaid
entered.

"Good morning, Lucy, how do you do?" said Ellen, rising. "How is
Mrs. Condy and all the family?"

"They are very well, Miss Ellen," replied Lucy. "Mrs. Condy wants
you to come there this morning and go and buy the mourning for the
family. And then they want you to come and sew all this week, and
part of next, too."

Ellen glanced at her sister, involuntarily, and then said--

"I am afraid, Lucy, that I can't go. Margaret is very poorly, and I
don't see how I can possibly leave her."

"O yes, you can go, Ellen," said Margaret. "You can fix me what I
want, and come home every night. I'll do well enough."