though work and disappointment had faded the bright colors of hope, still hope buoyed up her spirits. 

     "Her sister Myra was delicate, and lay on the mattrass on that night, tossing about with suffering, unable to rest. At last Lettice says to her:—— 

     "'Poor Myra, can't you get to sleep?' 

     "'It is so cold,' was the reply; 'and when will you have done and come to bed?' 

     "'One quarter of an hour more, Myra, and I shall have finished my work, and then I will throw my clothes over your feet, and I hope you will be a little warmer.' 

     "Myra sighed, and lifted up her head, and leaning upon her arm watched the progress of her sister as she plied the needle to her work. 

     "'How slowly,' said Myra, 'you do get along. It is one o'clock, and you have not finished yet.' 

     "'I cannot work fast, Myra, and neatly too; my hands are not so delicate and nimble as yours,' and smiling a little, she added: 'Such swelled clumsy things, I cannot get over the ground nimbly and well at the same time. You, are a fine race horse, and I a drudging pony. But I shall soon be through.' 

     "Myra once more uttered a sigh and cried: 

     "'Oh, my feet are dreadful cold.' 

     "'Take this bit of flannel,' said Lettice, 'and let me wrap them up.' 

     "'Nay, you will want it,' she replied. 

     "'Oh, I have only five minutes to sit up, and I can wrap this piece of carpet round mine,' said Lettice. 

     "And she laid down her work and went to the bed and wrapped her sister's icy feet in the flannel, and then sat down and finished her task. How glad was Lettice to creep to the mattress and to lay her aching limbs upon it. A hard bed and scanty covering in a cold night are keenly felt. She soon fell asleep, while her sister tossed and murmured on account of the cold. 

     "Lettice awoke and drew her over little pillow from under her head, and put it under 

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