As much as it was possible, in the nature of Winthrop’s business, his sister had him with her; and when he could not be there, his influence and power.  It was trying enough for the poor child to be left alone as much as she was, for she could not always find solace in Mrs. Nettley, and sometimes could not endure her presence.  Against this evil Winthrop provided as far as he might by giving Winnie little jobs to do for him while he was gone, and by setting her about what courses of self-improvement her delicate system of mind and body was able to bear.  He managed it so that all was for him; not more the patching and knitting and bits of writing which were strictly in his line, than the pages of history, the sums in arithmetic, and the little lesson of Latin, which were for Winnie’s own self.  He knew that affection, in every one of them, would steady the nerves and fortify the will to go patiently on to the end.  And the variety of occupation he left her was so great that without tiring herself in any one thing, Winnie generally found the lonely hours of her day pretty well filled up.  Mrs. Nettley was a great help, when Winnie was in the mood for her company; that was not always.

His little sister’s bodily and mental health was another care upon Winthrop’s mind, and on his time.  Disease now constantly ruffled the sweet flow of spirits which once was habitual with her.  Nothing ruffled his; and his soothing hand could always quiet her, could almost always make her happy, when it was practicable for him to spare time.  Very often when he had no time to give beyond what a word or a look would take from his business.  But those times were comparatively few.  He was apt to give her what she needed, and make up for it afterwards at the cost of rest and sleep when Winnie was abed.  Through the warm summer days he took her daily and twice daily walks, down to the Green where the sea air could blow in her face fresh from its own quarter, where she and he too could turn their backs upon brickwork and pavement and look on at least one face of nature unspotted and unspoiled.  At home he read to her, and with her, the times when he used to read the classics; and many other times; he talked to her and he played with her, having bought a second-hand backgammon board for the very purpose; he heard her and set her her lessons; and he amused her with all the details of his daily business and experience that he could make amusing.

If these things were a charge, it was one for which he was abundantly rewarded, every night and every morning, and knew it.  But the other part of the burden, the drain upon his purse, was not so easily to be met withal.  There was no helping it.  Winnie’s state of health made her simple wants, simple as they were, far more costly than his own had been; and he would and did supply them.  He could bear to starve himself and lie hard; but Winnie would very soon starve to death; and the time when she could sleep softly on a hard bed had once been, but would