"She thinks she's home," explained Mildred, with moist eyes.

"This is her sister," said Clara, "and this lady is a friend of
theirs. I know they've robbed themselves, they've brought so much."

"Vun's honly ter come to Hameriker ter be a lady," chuckled Mrs.
Wheaton under her breath.

"We won't wake your sister," said one of the girls. "She's tired,
and no wonder. We haven't treated her right at the store, but we
wasn't to blame, for we didn't know her at all. Please tell her
that we'll give her a different reception to-morrow," and after
another season of whispering in the hall they departed, leaving
the simple offerings gleaned from their poverty.

Mr. Jocelyn and the physician soon appeared, and after a brief
examination the latter called Mr. Jocelyn aside and said, "Her pulse
indicates that she may die at any hour. There is no use in trying
to do anything, for the end has come. It has probably been hastened
by lack of proper food, but it's too late now to give much, for
there is no power of assimilation."

"You had better tell the poor girl the truth, then," said Mr.
Jocelyn.

Clara was called, and heard the verdict with a short, convulsive
sob, then was her weary, quiet self again, "I feared it was so,"
was all she said. She now became aware that Mildred stood beside
her with an encircling and sustaining arm. "Don't," she whispered;