Mrs. Mason put the volume in her hand as she spoke.

“It has been more than a week since he was here, and I was afraid he was sick.  He is very kind and good to remember the book he promised me, and I thank you very much, Mrs. Mason, for bringing it.”  The face was radiant with newborn joy, but it all died out when Miss Dorothea White (little Claudia’s particular aversion) fixed her pale blue eyes upon her, and asked, in a sharp, discontented tone: 

“What ails that girl, Mrs. Williams?  She does not work enough or she would have some blood in her cheeks.  Has she been sick?”

“No, madam, she has not been sick exactly; but somehow she never looks strong and hearty like the others.  She works well enough.  There is not a better or more industrious girl in the asylum; but I rather think she studies too much.  She will sit up and read of nights, when the others are all sound asleep; and very often, when Kate and I put out the hall lamp, we find her with her book alone in the cold.  I can’t get my consent to forbid her reading, especially as it never interferes with her regular work, and she is so fond of it.”  As the kind-hearted matron uttered these words she glanced at the child and sighed involuntarily.  “You are too indulgent, Mrs. Williams; we cannot afford to feed and clothe girls of her age, to wear themselves out reading trash all night.  We are very much in arrears at best, and I think some plan should be adopted to make these large girls, who have been on hand so long, more useful.  What do you say, ladies?” Miss Dorothea looked around for some encouragement and support in her move.

“Well, for my part, Miss White, I think that child is not strong enough to do much hard work; she always has looked delicate and pale,” said Mrs. Taylor, an amiable-looking woman, who had taken one of the youngest orphans on her knee.

“My dear friend, that is the very reason.  She does not exercise sufficiently to make her robust.  Just look at her face and hands, as bloodless as a turnip.”

“Beulah, do ask her to give you some of her beautiful color; she looks exactly like a cake of tallow, with two glass beads in the middle—­”

“Hush!” and Beulah’s hand was pressed firmly over Claudia’s crimson lips, lest the whisper of the indignant little brunette should reach ears for which it was not intended.

As no one essayed to answer Miss White, the matron ventured to suggest a darling scheme of her own.

“I have always hoped the managers would conclude to educate her for a teacher.  She is so studious, I know she would learn very rapidly.”

“My dear madam, you do not in the least understand what you are talking about.  It would require at least five years’ careful training to fit her to teach, and our finances do not admit of any such expenditure.  As the best thing for her, I should move to bind her out to a mantua-maker or milliner, but she could not stand the confinement.  She would go off with consumption in less than a year.  There is the trouble with these delicate children.”