Miss Ruth's was very different; it was perfectly crowded with pretty
things, and yet not too many of them. And such beautiful pictures
hung on the walls, most of them sacred: but evidently chosen with a
view to cheerfulness. Just opposite the bed was "The Flight into
Egypt;" a portrait of Flurry; and some sunny little landscapes, most
of them English scenes, finished the collection. There were some
velvet lined shelves, filled with old china, and some dear little
Dresden shepherdesses on the mantelpiece. A stand of Miss Ruth's
favorite books stood beside her lounge chair, and her inlaid Indian
desk was beside it.

I was glad Miss Ruth liked pretty things; it showed such charming
harmony in her character. Poor Miss Ruth, she was evidently suffering
severely, as she lay on her couch in front of the fire; her hair was
unbound, and fell in thick short lengths over her pillow, reminding
me of Flurry's soft fluff, but not quite so bright a gold.

I was sadly frightened when I found she did not open her eyes or
speak to me. I am afraid I bungled sadly over my task, though she was
quite patient and let me do what I liked with her. It seemed terribly
long before I had her safely in her bed. When her head touched the
pillows, she raised her eyelids with difficulty.

"Thank you," she whispered; "you have done it so nicely, dear, and
have not hurt me more than you could help," and then she motioned me
to kiss her. Dear patient Miss Ruth!

I had got the room all straight before Uncle Geoffrey came back, and
then Mr. Lucas was with him. Miss Ruth spoke to them both, and took