had come to understand Bridget and to be friends with her, before
any of the others. At first she could feel nothing but repugnance
for this uncultivated, unwholesome-looking girl, a repugnance
which she struggled hard to conceal; but, little by little, as she
talked to her, she was won by her quiet endurance and courage. At
length, one day, Katharine coaxed the girl's story from her, how
she was left an orphan with younger children to care for; how she
had fallen and hurt her back; how she had strained it with
overwork, when it was still weak; how she had struggled to keep
on, until the doctor had brought her where she was; and how she
must hurry to get well, in order to earn money to pay the
neighbors for caring for the little children. It was a homely tale
and simply told; but when it was ended, Katharine was surprised to
find her eyes full of tears, as she bent over and touched her lips
to the girl's forehead. "I am glad you told me this, Bridget," she
said. "Now we can talk about it together, and it will make us
better friends."

And Bridget answered gratefully, as she looked up into the clear
eyes above her own,--"Thank you, miss. It's nice to have a body
know all about it. Somehow it helps along."

Three weeks later, as Katharine went into the room and dropped two
or three scarlet carnations on the girl's idle hand, she was
saluted with exciting news.

"A letter from home, to-day, Miss, and somebody has sent money
enough to pay the children's board for ever and ever so long; and
they don't know at all who it is. Isn't it wonderful!"