“Yes; don’t be so terrified, dear child,” said Rose, dropping her work and hurrying to Elsie’s assistance; “they are not unusual with children; I have seen both May and Daisy have them.  Quick, Aunt Chloe! a cloth dipped in spirits of turpentine, to lay over the stomach and bowels, and another to put between her shoulders.  It is the best thing we can do till we get a doctor here.  But, ah, see! it is already passing away.”

That was true; the muscles were beginning to relax, and in another moment the eyes resumed their natural appearance, the hands were no longer clenched, and a low plaintive, “Mamma,” came from the little lips.

“Mamma is here, darling,” Elsie said, amid her fast-dropping tears, covering the little wan face with kisses, as she held it to her bosom.

“Thank God! she is still ours!” exclaimed the father, almost under his breath; then, a little louder, “Elsie, dear wife, I shall go at once for Dr. Channing, an English physician who has been highly recommended to me.”

“Do, dear husband, and urge him to come at once,” she answered, in a tone full of anxiety.

He left the room, returning with the physician within half an hour, to find the little girl asleep on her mother’s breast.

“Ah, I hope she is not going to be very ill,” said the doctor, taking gentle hold of her tiny wrist.  “She seems easy now, and her papa tells me the spasm was of very short duration.”

She woke, apparently free from suffering, allowed her papa to take her, that mamma’s weary arms might rest, and in the course of the afternoon even got down from his knee, and played about the room for a little while, but languidly, and was soon quite willing to be nursed again, “papa, grandpa, and Mamma Rose,” as she lovingly called her young and fair step-grandmother, taking turns in trying to relieve and amuse her.

She was a most affectionate, unselfish little creature, and though longing to lay again her weary little head on mamma’s breast, and feel the enfolding of mamma’s dear arms, gave up without a murmur, when told that “poor mamma was tired with holding so big a girl for so long,” and quietly contented herself with the attention of the others.

As the early evening hour which was the children’s bed-time drew near, Elsie took her little girl again on her lap.

“Mamma, pease talk to Elsie,” pleaded the sweet baby voice, while the curly head fell languidly upon her shoulder, and a tiny hand, hot and dry with fever, softly patted her cheek.

“What about, darling?”

“’Bout Jesus, mamma.  Do He love little chillens? do he love wee Elsie?”

The gentle voice that answered was full of tears.  “Yes, darling, mamma and papa, and dear grandpa too, love you more than tongue can tell, but Jesus loves you better still.”

“Mamma, may Elsie go dere?”

“Where, my precious one?”

“To Jesus, mamma; Elsie want to go see Jesus.”