Chapter 2

A FEW minutes after Mrs. Markland left her husband's side, she stepped from the house, carrying a small basket in one hand, and leading a child, some six or seven years old, with the other.

"Are you going over to see Mrs. Elder?" asked the child, as they moved down the smoothly-graded walk.

"Yes, dear," was answered.

"I don't like to go there," said the child.

"Why not, Aggy." The mother's voice was slightly serious.

"Every thing is so mean and poor."

"Can Mrs. Elder help that, Aggy?"

"I don't know."

"She's sick, my child, and not able even to sit up. The little girl who stays with her can't do much. I don't see how Mrs. Elder can help things looking mean and poor; do you?"

"No, ma'am," answered Aggy, a little bewildered by what her mother said.

"I think Mrs. Elder would be happier if things were more comfortable around her; don't you, Aggy?"

"Yes, mother,"

"Let us try, then, you and I, to make her happier."

"What can I do?" asked little Aggy, lifting a wondering look to her mother's face.

"Would you like to try, dear?"

"If I knew what to do."

"There is always a way when the heart is willing. Do you understand that, love?"

Aggy looked up again, and with an inquiring glance, to her mother.

"We will soon be at Mrs. Elder's. Are you not sorry that she is so sick? It is more than a week since she was able to sit up, and she has suffered a great deal of pain."

"Yes, I'm very sorry." And both look and tone confirmed the truth of her words. The child's heart was touched.

"When we get there, look around you, and see if there is nothing you can do to make her feel better. I'm sure you will find something."

"What, mother?" Aggy's interest was all alive now.

"If the room is in disorder, you might, very quietly, put things in their right places. Even that would make her feel better; for nobody can be quite comfortable in the midst of confusion."

"Oh! I can do all that, mother." And light beamed in the child's countenance. "It's nothing very hard."

"No; you can do all this with little effort; and yet, trifling as the act may seem, dear, it will do Mrs. Elder good: and you will have the pleasing remembrance of a kind deed. A child's hand is strong enough to lift a feather from an inflamed wound, even though it lack the surgeon's skill." The mother said these last words half herself.

And now they were at the door of Mrs. Elder's unattractive cottage, and the mother and child passed in. Aggy had not overdrawn the picture when she said that everything was