been myself a thousand times," Mrs. Jocelyn exclaimed.

"It's all right, mamma, but the sight of you and good Mrs. Wheaton
is more welcome than I can tell you, for I was getting very lonely
and tired."

"I'll stay now hand tend ter heverything," said Mrs. Wheaton, with
a stout, cheery kindness that could not be disguised even in her
whisper; but Clara awoke with a start and said, "What is it, momsy?"

Then she sprang up, and after a brief glance at her mother threw
herself with a long, low cry on the lifeless form.

"Leave hall ter me," said Mrs. Wheaton decidedly, "hand take Miss
Jocelyn 'ome, for this'll be too much for 'er."

"Ah, mamma dear," sobbed Mildred, "my heart would be broken indeed
if that were you."

"Millie, if you love me, come home at once," Mrs. Jocelyn urged.
It was quite light when they gained the street, and after reaching
home Mildred was given a warm cup of tea, and left to sleep until
late in the day. While she slept, however, there occurred some
rather stirring scenes.

Belle, too, slept rather late, but a portentous gloom came into her
eyes when told that Mrs. Bute was dead. She did not say very much,
but her young face grew older and very resolute while she hastily
ate her breakfast. Then she carried something nice to Clara, and
found that Mrs. Wheaton had left, a neighbor from the tall tenement