“Must you go to-day, too?” inquired Margaret, looking into her sister’s face anxiously, on seeing her, after the hastily prepared breakfast had been eaten, take up her bonnet and shawl.

“Yes, Margaret, I must go to-day.  There is one more dress to be made, and that must be done.  But after to-day, I won’t go out anywhere again until you are better.”

“I don’t think I shall ever be better again, Ellen,” said the sick girl.  “I am getting so weak; and I feel just as if I shouldn’t stay here but a little while.  You don’t know how strange I feel sometimes.  Oh, I wish you didn’t have to go out to-day!” And she looked so earnestly into the face of her sister, that the tears sprung into Ellen’s eyes.

“If I can persuade them to put this last dress off until next week, and then get some one else to make it, I will,” said the sister:  “but if I can’t, Margaret, try and keep up your spirits.  I’ll ask Mrs. Ryland, down-stairs, to come and sit with you a little while at a time through the day; and so if I can’t; get off, you won’t be altogether without company.”

“I wish you would, sister, for I feel so lonesome sometimes,” replied Margaret, mournfully.

Mrs. Ryland consented, for she was a kind-hearted woman, and liked the sisters, and Ellen hurried away to Mrs. Condy’s.

“You are very late this morning, ain’t you?” said Mary Condy, as Ellen entered with Jane’s finished dress.

“I am a little late, Miss Mary, but I sat up until three o’clock this morning, and overslept myself in consequence.”

“Well, you’ll finish my dress to-day, of course?”

“Really, Miss Mary, I hardly know what to say about it.  Sister is so very poorly, that I am almost afraid to leave her alone.  Can’t you in any way put yours off until next week?  I have been up nearly all night for two nights, and feel very unwell this morning.”  And certainly her pale cheeks, sunken eyes, and haggard countenance fully confirmed her statement.

“It will be impossible, Ellen,” was Mary’s prompt and positive response.  “I must go to church to-morrow, and cannot, of course, go out, without my black dress.”

With a sigh, Ellen sat down and resumed her needle.  After a while she said—­

“Miss Mary, I cannot finish your dress, unless you and your sister help me a good deal.”

“Oh, we’ll do that, of course,” replied Mary, getting up and leaving the room.

It was nearly eleven o’clock before Mary thought of helping Ellen any, and then two or three young ladies came in to pay a visit of condolence, and prevented her.  Tears were shed at first; and then gradually a more cheerful tone of feeling succeeded, and so much interested were the young ladies in each other’s company, that the moments passed rapidly away, and advanced the time near on to the dinner hour.  It was full three o’clock before Mary and Jane sat themselves down to help Ellen.  The afternoon seemed almost to fly away, and when it was nightfall, the dress was not half finished.