bedside, a hand was laid on her shoulder. It was Rhoda.

"Go to bed, Polly: you are no use here."

"You'd be sleepy if you worked as hard as I do."

"Very likely," said Rhoda, with a gentleness that struck Polly as very
singular. "Good-night."

Rhoda spent the night watching, and thinking harder than she had ever
thought before.

Next morning, early, Polly came into the sick-room. There sat her
sister watching the patient, out of sight.

"La, Rhoda! Have you sat there all night?"

"Yes. Don't speak so loud. Come here. You've set your heart on this
lilac silk. I'll give it to you for your black merino."

"Not you, my lady; you are not so fond of mereeny, nor of me neither."

"I'm not a liar like you," said the other, becoming herself for a
moment, "and what I say I'll do. You put out your merino for me in the
dressing-room."

"All right," said Polly, joyfully.

"And bring me two buckets of water instead of one. I have never closed
my eyes."