the little wheel-chair. It was the sharp, pale little face that
confronted her above the warm wrapper and the rug that covered the
lower part of the child's body; for child Mercy Curtis was, and little
older than Ruth herself, although her face seemed so old.

To Ruth's surprise the first greeting of the invalid was a most
ill-natured one. She made a very unpleasant face at the visitor, ran
out her tongue, and then said, in her shrill, discordant voice:

"I don't like you at all-- I tell you that, Miss!"

"I am sorry you do not like me," replied Ruth, gently. "I think I
should like you if you'd let me."

"Yah!" ejaculated the very unpleasant, but much to be pitied invalid.

The mother and father ignored all this ill-nature on the part of the
lame girl and were as kind and friendly with their visitor as they had
been on the previous evening. Once during breakfast time (Mercy took
hers from a tray that was fastened to her chair before her) the child
burst out again, speaking to Ruth. There were eggs on the table and,
pointing to the golden-brown fried egg that Mrs. Curtis had just
placed upon Ruth's plate, Mercy snapped:

"Do you know what's the worst wish I'd wish on My Enemy?"

Ruth looked her astonishment and hesitated to reply. But Mercy did not
expect a reply, for she continued quickly:

"I'd wish My Enemy to have to eat every morning for breakfast two soft