mind to be unburdened of directions for a dress to a forewoman,
who was too ill to understand; scoldings to be scattered with no
illiberal hand amongst a group of frightened girls, hardly
sparing the poor invalid herself for her inopportune illness. In
the middle of all this turmoil Ruth crept quietly to her place,
with a heavy saddened heart at the indisposition of the gentle
forewoman. She would gladly have nursed Jenny herself, and often
longed to do it, but she could not be spared. Hands, unskilful in
fine and delicate work, would be well enough qualified to tend
the sick, until the mother arrived from home. Meanwhile, extra
diligence was required in the workroom; and Ruth found no
opportunity of going to see little Tom, or to fulfil the plans
for making him and his grandmother more comfortable, which she
had proposed to herself. She regretted her rash promise to Mr.
Bellingham, of attending to the little boy's welfare; all that
she could do was done by means of Mrs. Mason's servant, through
whom she made inquiries, and sent the necessary help.

The subject of Jenny's illness was the prominent one in the
house. Ruth told of her own adventure, to be sure; but, when she
was at the very crisis of the boy's fall into the river, the more
fresh and vivid interest of some tidings of Jenny was brought
into the room, and Ruth ceased, almost blaming herself for caring
for anything besides the question of life or death to be decided
in that very house.

Then a pale, gentle-looking woman was seen moving softly about;
and it was whispered that this was the mother come to nurse her
child. Everybody liked her, she was so sweet-looking, and gave so
little trouble, and seemed so patient, and so thankful, for any