"Well, we ought to love our neighbor better than ourselves," replied
Mary, who was walking behind. "We shall, Eddy, if we are like----"

"Like Jesus?" asked Eddy.

"Yes," said Mary. "He didn't love himself at all; but he loved us, even
unto death."

"How wonderful!" said Emma. "Talk some more about him, Mary dear, if
you please."

But they were now at the poor door, which swung upon its wooden hinges:
they were about to knock, when they saw a forlorn-looking woman come
from a dark closet, with a sick child in her arms.

"Poor little thing!" said Mary, going toward her.[*] "What is the
matter with him, Mrs. Graffam?"

[Footnote *: See Frontispiece.]

"He is very sick," she replied, glancing from her to the door, when
Emma courtesied politely, and Edwin pulled off his hat. "Walk in," said
Mrs. Graffam; "my children are all out upon the plain, but you can help
yourselves to seats." Then turning to Mary she said again, "He is very
sick, and I cannot tell what is the matter with him, unless it is want
of----." Here she paused, and after a time added, "He is losing all his
flesh, poor thing!"

"Yes," said Mary, "he looks as my dear little sister did just before
she died!"