“Or to the poorhouse, more likely,” said another.

“She’ll hate that,” said the first speaker.  “I’ve heard her shudder over the poorhouse.”

“She shall never go there!” declared Hetty, with blazing eyes.

“Hoity-toity! who’s to prevent?” asked the second speaker, turning a look of disdain on Hetty.

“I am,” was the fearless answer.  “I know all Miss Bennett’s ways, and I can take care of her, and I will,” went on Hetty indignantly; and turning suddenly, she was surprised to find Miss Bennett’s eyes fixed on her with an eager, questioning look.

“There! she understands! she’s better!” cried Hetty.  “Mayn’t I stay and take care of you, dear Miss Bennett?” she asked, running up to the bed.

“Yes, you may,” interrupted the doctor, seeing the look in his patient’s face; “but you mustn’t agitate her now.  And now, my good women”—­turning to the others—­“I think she can get along with her young friend here, whom I happen to know is a womanly young girl, and will be attentive and careful.”

They took the hint and went away, and the doctor gave directions to Hetty what to do, telling her she must not leave Miss Bennett.  So she was now regularly installed as nurse and housekeeper.

Days and weeks rolled by.  Miss Bennett was able to be up in her chair, to talk and knit, and to walk about the house, but was not able to be left alone.  Indeed, she had a horror of being left alone; she could not bear Hetty out of her sight, and Hetty’s mother was very willing to spare her, for she had many mouths to fill.

To provide food for two out of what had been scrimping for one was a problem; but Miss Bennett ate very little, and she did not resume her tea so they managed to get along and not really suffer.

One day Hetty sat by the fire with her precious box on her knee, which she was putting to rights for the twentieth time.  The box was empty, and her sharp young eyes noticed a little dust on the silk lining.

“I think I’ll take this out and dust it,” she said to Miss Bennett, “if you don’t mind.”

“Do as you like with it,” answered Miss Bennett; “it is yours.”

So she carefully lifted the silk, which stuck a little.

“Why, here’s something under it,” she said—­“an old paper, and it has writing on.”

“Bring it to me,” said Miss Bennett; “perhaps it’s a letter I have forgotten.”

Hetty brought it.

“Why, it’s father’s writing!” said Miss Bennett, looking closely at the faded paper; “and what can it mean?  I never saw it before.  It says, ’Look, and ye shall find’—­that’s a Bible text.  And what is this under it?  ‘A word to the wise is sufficient.’  I don’t understand—­he must have put it there himself, for I never took that lining out—­I thought it was fastened.  What can it mean?” and she pondered over it long, and all day seemed absent-minded.