And the cheery little postman did not do much whistling that evening.
Bernardine heard of Marie's trouble, and rang for her to come.

Marie answered the bell, looking the picture of misery.

Her kind face was tear-stained, and her only voice was a sob.
Bernardine drew the girl to her.
"Poor old Marie," she whispered.

"Come and cry your kind heart out, and then you will feel better.

Sit by me here, and don't try to speak.